My Mind is My Own
by Sparrrrrrrks
Summary: PoA rewrite, Slytherin focus. Flirts with canon. In Daniel Livingstone's third year he goes to Snape for help, not just for his inexplicable Charms block, but also about messages he has been receiving from people claiming to be his dead parents. EDITED
1. Prologue: The Train, the Sorting

A/N: Hi. Y'all can probably guess that I'm not doing this for money, and that I'm drawing on Rowling's world etc etc, and I horked some dialogue obviously. I just figured with all the fanfiction I've read and enjoyed, I should probably try writing some and see how that flies. Let me know what you think, please, I'm more interested in constructive criticism than unequivocal praise. Not that I'll turn the latter down, but still...

"Mind if I sit in here?" Daniel asked the two occupants of the compartment. They were a sandy-haired, long-faced boy and a dainty little blonde girl with her hair in a long ponytail.

"Sure," the boy said, and the girl nodded enthusiastically.

"What's your wand?" the girl asked as soon as Daniel sat down. "Mine's birch, with a _unicorn's _hair inside! Can you believe, an actual unicorn helped make my wand!"

"Girls," the boy with her scoffed. She just rolled her eyes.

"Don't mind Seamus," she said. "He's just miffed because his is _willow_, and I _know _that willow belongs to the White _Lady_, because I looked it up before."

"Core's dragon heartstring," Seamus muttered resentfully in a thick Irish accent.

"Heartstring?" Daniel queried. "They kill dragons for wands?"

Seamus shrugged.

"They're probably already dead," the girl said. "Like how they take elephants' tusks, you know."

Daniel bit back his answer to that. "My name's Daniel," he said. "Pleased to meet you, and your wand."

She smiled. She had a very pretty smile, and shining brown eyes. "So what's your wand?"

Daniel took it out, still not able to do so without a tingling of awe. "Blackthorn," he said. "Ollivander said that it was - " he noticed her jiggling, obviously knowing the answer herself, and stopped to let her show off.

She cut in as soon as was polite. "Fate! You're going to be a great hero, it means! And what's the core?"

"Kelpie hair."

"Ooooo," she said. "Yours is the best yet. I hope we can be friends."

"Yeah, ditch Seamus," Daniel said, grinning at the other boy. "Who'd be friends with a willow wand?"

Seamus glowered, and the girl looked at him, dismayed. "I don't —"

"I'm kidding," Daniel said, smiling at her. "All this is really cool."

"Yeah," she said. "It's really interesting how all the stuff that I thought was made-up is real, but it's kind of different, too. Like I heard that the Loch Ness Monster is a kelpie, and I thought that was a kind of dog! And Seamus told me that Merlin was a real wizard, but that King Arthur wasn't even King of anything at all."

"Really?" Daniel asked, glad she'd finally managed to include the glum-looking boy in the conversation. "What about Morgaine?"

Lisa looked Seamus, who shrugged. "I dunno, I've never heard of him."

"Morgan _le Fay_," Daniel said. "You know, the sorceress?"

"Oh, Morgana," Seamus said. "Of course _she _was real."

Well, la-di-dah. Daniel drew himself up to say something sarcastic, but before he could think of something the compartment door slid open again, and a nervous-looking black boy in ripped jeans and a purple t-shirt peered in. He looked relieved to see them the same age as him. "Can I sit here?" he asked, edging in.

"Sure," Seamus said quickly. "Come on in. We're all first-years too."

The new boy exhaled gratefully and sat down opposite Daniel. "I'm Dean Thomas," he said. Daniel managed not to laugh, but Cockneys were just funny. Probably something to do with EastEnders.

"Seamus Finnigan," Seamus said. "This is Lisa Turpin, and Daniel - "

"Livingstone," Daniel supplied.

"Cool," Dean said.

"What's your wand?" Lisa asked him.

"Huh?" Dean asked, before his face cleared in comprehension. "Oh, what's it made of?" He pulled it out, and Daniel guessed from the look on his face he was Muggle-raised too. "Willow," he said. "The man in the shop said because it was so long, I'd be good at subtle magic, and the, uh, demiguise hair was good for, um, Transfiguration." He said the words like they were in a foreign language.

"Cool!" Lisa said politely, nowhere near as excited as she had been for Daniel's. "I have a unicorn hair in mine."

Dean nodded awkwardly. "You tried to use it yet?" he asked to the compartment in general.

There was a nervous pause.

"I got sparks out of mine in the shop," Lisa said.

"I've cast some stuff," Seamus said, abashed. "My mum's a witch, so she helped me out."

"Go on, then," Daniel said, curious.

Seamus pulled out his wand and gripped it lightly. "_Lumos_," he said, and the tip glowed a pale white.

Daniel's hand itched for him to try it, but he didn't want his first go at a spell to be in front of anyone else. Lisa and Dean didn't seem all that eager to try just then either.

"Cool," Daniel said to fill the silence. "Is that something we'll be learning soon?"

"Ma said we'd probably learn it this year," Seamus replied. "She says it's important for safety and easy to practise."

The door opened again, and a girl with buck teeth and long brown hair stuck her head in. "Has anyone in here seen a toad?"

They all looked at each other.

"Nope," Seamus said. "Someone's lost familiar?"

"Yes," the girl said. "A boy called Neville Longbottom." She glanced down, and her brown eyes lit up. "Ooooh," she said. "Magic?"

"Yeah," Seamus said, going slightly red. "Just Lumos."

"That's great!" the girl said. "Another new boy was trying a spell a couple of compartments down, but he wasn't much good at it. I like Lumos, though. It took me a few goes for it to work properly for me, but then I got the hang of it. I'm Hermione Granger."

"Seamus Finnigan," Seamus said.

"Well I have to go keep looking," she said, just as Lisa had opened her mouth to introduce herself. "I'll see you all at Hogwarts!" She closed the door firmly and was gone.

"_Nox_," Seamus said, and the light on his wand went out. "Took me weeks to get that one right, and it's still pretty feeble. _A few goes_." His voice was thick with resentment.

"Well I've never done a spell in my whole life," Dean said. "So you're well ahead of me."

"And me," Daniel said, together with Lisa.

Seamus couldn't help a smile at that, and he put his wand away. "Probably still end up in Hufflepuff, though," he said with good-natured gloom.

"What's Hufflepuff?" Dean asked, and Daniel put a curious look on his face. He'd have to get used to having people explain all this stuff to him, no matter how often he'd heard it already.

"One of the houses," Seamus said, sounding surprised to be asked. "No one told you?"

Dean shook his head. "My parents weren't all that happy about the whole magic thing," he said. "They're letting me come, but I hardly got to talk to anyone about anything because they just decided at the last minute."

"Hufflepuff's the dud house," Seamus told him. "For the people who don't fit in anywhere else."

Dean's face fell, and Lisa bit her lip anxiously.

"It even _sounds _stupid," Seamus continued. "Like a pygmy puff."

"_I_ heard Hufflepuffs are the best friends to have," Daniel said, forgetting his plan to keep his knowledge to himself.

"Yeah, who told you that?" Seamus asked skeptically.

"A Slytherin," Daniel replied, not able to help himself.

Seamus's eyes widened and his mouth opened slightly. "Really?"

"Professor McGonagall said Hufflepuff House was for people who are loyal and dedicated," Lisa provided helpfully.

"Well sure they _say _that," Seamus said, apparently determined to be miserable. "Name me one Hufflepuff who's ever done anything cool."

The compartment was silent.

"I'm Muggleborn," Dean said defensively. "I don't know _anything _cool. I'll probably be there in Hufflepuff with you."

"You two are crazy," Lisa said, shaking her head in disbelief. "We're on a train going to Hogwarts, to learn _magic_, and we're all friends, and we'll have a great time _wherever_ we end up."

"She's talking sense," Daniel said. Lisa smiled at him a little, but Seamus scowled.

"How many other houses are there?" Dean asked. "What are the chances any of us will even be together?"

"There's only four," Lisa said. "Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff."

"What do the names mean?"

"Founders of Hogwarts," she said. "They put a spell on Gryffindor's hat and you put it on and it tells you which house you're in."

"It reads your mind?" Daniel asked, dismayed.

"Yeah," Seamus said. "It talks to you a bit, tells you what it sees, then it shouts out the house. Pretty painless."

"So if it sees loyal thoughts, it says Hufflepuff?" Dean asked.

"Well yeah, if you're not brave, smart or a dark wizard that's where you end up," Seamus said.

Daniel was getting sick of the way Seamus was talking like he knew everything there was to know. "That's not how it works," he said.

"Yeah?" Seamus said. "Well you're Muggleborn. You just know what you were told by McGonagall."

"You just know what you've been told too," Daniel retorted. "You've just been told by different people."

Seamus was glaring at him. "You can't learn the things that matter from one conversation, you know. I've grown up with it, I know what I'm talking about."

"So you're pretty sure half of the students on this train aren't worth your time because they're in the wrong house?"

"I didn't say that!" Seamus protested, face darkening quickly.

"You pretty much did," Daniel said.

"_I_ don't think all Slytherins are dark wizards," Lisa said firmly. "Some might be, but a quarter of wizards in the world can't be evil. It wouldn't make sense."

"Why don't you ask Daniel and his_ Slytherin friend_," Seamus snapped at her. "I'd rather be in Hufflepuff than in Slytherin any day."

"There's no need to get snippy," she said, frowning.

"From the sound of it you're not going to be in either," Daniel told Seamus, still ticked off. His _parents_ had been in Slytherin, which showed what Seamus knew. "Doesn't sound like you have the right qualities."

Seamus stood suddenly. "Well if I'm not good enough for you, you don't have to stay!"

Daniel forced himself not to stand. "You've said worse things than I have," he said. "I'm sure it's terrifying for you to think that you might not be braver than you are ambitious, or smarter than you are loyal, but you don't have to blow your top. I don't have anything against you. You know, unless you keep insulting me."

Seamus sat. "Sorry," he said grudgingly. "It's just Mum's a Gryffindor, and … she doesn't think much of Hufflepuff."

"There's no one better to prove her wrong, then," Lisa chipped in.

"Hey," Dean said suddenly, then stopped abruptly when everyone looked at him. He bit his lip and raised an eyebrow. "Does anyone else have an issue with the … robes?"

Seamus snorted, and the tension eased. "My dad refuses to go anywhere with mum where he'd have to dress like a wizard," he said. "Muggles are weird that way."

"It is weird," Daniel said to Dean. "I know I'm never telling anyone from back home what the uniform is."

"Why, what's wrong with it?" Lisa asked.

"It's practically a dress," Dean said face scrunched up. "We have to wear dresses every day."

"Nah, you'll get used to it," Seamus said dismissively.

"That's what I'm afraid of," Daniel said, and he and Dean shared a grin.

Lisa giggled. "I'm sure you'll look very handsome," she said, grinning impishly. Dean slumped forward, head in hands.

They spent the rest of the morning mostly talking about what to expect at Hogwarts, and being the authority on the matter cheered Seamus up no end. When the lady came around with the lunch trolley, he took it on himself to instruct them all what to buy. Dean had brought his own lunch, though, as had Lisa, so they only bought a few sweets, leaving Daniel to wade through Seamus's advice on his own.

He ended up with some kind of pie with an unfamiliar, spicy flavour, and three dark red muffins. "The muffins are great," Seamus said, his mouth already full of pasty. "What they do, is when you hold them they can tell what you ate last, and then they taste like something that goes with it. Mum makes them all the time, but hers aren't anywhere near as good as these."

Daniel saw Lisa looking at it longingly, and offered one to her and one to Dean. Lisa took one, but Dean hesitated. "You paid for it," he said reluctantly.

"Give me your crisps, then," Daniel said. "I get the feeling I won't be eating many of those at Hogwarts."

Dean grinned, and they swapped. Daniel's muffin was hot and crispy on the outside, and tasted just like hot chips and ketchup. "These things are genius," he said, surprised at such a familiar taste, one he hadn't realised he'd been craving. "I should have bought the lot of them."

Seamus grinned. "Wait 'til you try these," he said, holding up a bag of jelly beans. "Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. You never know what you're going to get."

Daniel was enjoying his muffin too much to risk spoiling it with a surprise taste. "No thanks," he said. "I'm good."

"Coward," Seamus taunted.

"Bully," Daniel returned, and stuck his tongue out.

"Chuck one over," Dean said, holding out his hand. Seamus gave him a little off-white bean, and watched him eagerly as he put it in his mouth.

"Eurgh!" Dean said, forcing himself to swallow. He covered his mouth with his hands, then ran them briefly through his short black hair. "I thought it'd be some magic taste, but it's just _garlic_!"

Seamus snickered, and Lisa looked at Dean's face with dread.

"Go on, unicorn girl," Seamus said, holding out the bag for her. She clenched her jaw and reached in, putting the bean in her mouth as quickly as she could.

When her face relaxed and she chewed it happily, Dean groaned. "Luckyyy," he said.

"Banana," Lisa said gleefully.

"Ew!" Dean said, apparently involuntarily.

"What?" she said. "I love banana!"

"I can't know you," he muttered.

"You next, Seamus," Lisa said.

Seamus casually put one in his mouth, chewed it carefully, and swallowed, a thoughtful frown on his face.

"What?" Dean asked, edging forward on his seat.

"I think it was water," Seamus said. "Never had one of those before. Weird."

He held the bag out triumphantly to Daniel, who said a final goodbye to the warm potato taste in his mouth and reached his hand in for a bean. He put it in his mouth before he could tell what colour it was. "Tastes like grass," he said, relieved. "At least, it tastes like grass smells."

Dean and Lisa looked happy for him, but Seamus didn't bother to hide his disappointment.

The rest of the train ride passed in much the same way: Seamus playfully trying to trip Daniel up both literally and otherwise, Dean slowly relaxing more and displaying a dry sense of humour Daniel liked, and Lisa bubbling over with enthusiasm about anything even slightly magical or unusual.

"Should we be getting changed?" Dean asked eventually. "We have to wear uniform for the Sorting, right?"

Dread edged in around the edges of Daniel's mind, but he consoled himself with the fact that all the others looked even more nervous than he was. And anyway, his parents had _said_ they'd be proud of him no matter where he ended up. So it really didn't matter.

"Yeah," Seamus said. "Go on Lisa, give us five."

Lisa's cheeks went slightly pink, and she got up and went out into the corridor. Daniel quickly ditched his shorts and t-shirt for the long pants and robes in his trunk, but refused to put on the hat until it was absolutely necessary. Seamus looked more comfortable in his robes than he had in the slacks and shirt he had worn earlier, but Dean was hopelessly self-conscious. He had looked much better in his Muggle clothes, pretty cool actually, but he wore the robes like they _were_ a dress, and they didn't flatter him.

"You're a wizard, Dean," Seamus told him reassuringly. "The robes are because of the magic, and the magic is more important than something stupid like feeling like a girl."

"We're all wearing it," Daniel chipped in glumly. "If you act normal, no one will even notice you in them."

Dean shrugged and stood up. They went out, finding Lisa in the corridor. "Very handsome," she said, smiling at Dean before slipping into the compartment herself. Dean rolled his eyes, but stood more easily as they waited for her. She took much longer than they had, and when she came out to let them back in she had let her hair out of its ponytail and put it into two braids. It made her look a lot younger, somehow. Maybe it was the robes.

When they had all sat down again, no one seemed to have anything left to say. The silence was broken by a voice over the PA: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately.

"If we're in different houses," Dean said eventually. "Let's still be friends, okay?"

"Of course!" Lisa said. "I'm sure we'll still have classes together and everything."

"Right," Seamus said weakly.

"Well, here goes nothing," Daniel said as the train shuddered to a halt and they heard people moving through the train.

"Can't we just stay here?" Lisa asked hopefully, which made Dean laugh.

"Come on," he said, pulling her to her feet. "We'll go be doomed together."

They all looked at each other, took deep breaths and walked out into the corridor and out of the train.

"First years!" boomed a voice from somewhere above them.

"That's Hagrid," Seamus shouted. "He's the gamekeeper, we have to follow him." He pointed to a great hulking figure holding a lantern above the heads of the throng.

"All right there, Harry?" the voice said roughly. "First years, over here!"

Like everyone who heard the big man, Daniel whirled to try and get a look at Harry Potter. It was impossible without being as tall as Hagrid, so he gave up and focussed on getting through the crowd. Once they had left the rest of the students, Daniel could see that there were less than fifty first-years, all following Hagrid down a dark path, down to a solid darkness. "The lake," Seamus whispered in his ear. "We go across in boats."

"You'll get your first sight of Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid announced. "Just round this bend, here."

They got down to the shore of the lake and, just as Hagrid said, got their first look at their new school. It was a castle, on the side of a rocky mountain, looking just like the cover of one of the books Rick always got sent in the mail.

"No more than four to a boat," Hagrid said, pointing.

Daniel looked around, and Seamus gestured for him to get in one. Lisa followed him in quickly, and Seamus tugged Dean in behind him.

"Everyone in?" Hagrid asked from a boat of his own. When nobody answered, he nodded and said, "Right then. Forward!"

The boats shot forward smoothly and drifted silently across the vast expanse of water. Lisa was absently trailing her hand in the water, but Seamus snatched her hand up as soon as he noticed. "Don't," was all he said before looking back up at the castle, coming slowly closer.

They went through a gap in the cliff and continued through a dark cavern. Daniel heard a soft sobbing sound from another boat, but couldn't see well enough to find out who it was. Eventually the boats came to a halt, and they all got out, clambering up across rocks until they finally reached what seemed to be a real floor, which flattened out and they found themselves on grass, in front of a huge wooden door. Hagrid knocked, and it swung open straight away.

McGonagall was there surveying them all sternly.

"The first years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid announced.

"Thank you, Hagrid," she said. "I will take them from here."

She led them through an enormous entrance chamber and into a small room at the far right end. Daniel heard the rumbling of the rest of the students through the wall and steeled his nerves. His parents had told him he wouldn't be able to control where he ended up, but he still felt like he had to do right by them. Rick and Penny were his parents where it mattered, but when it came to magic it was his birth parents who had guided him up to this point.

Daniel realised McGonagall was talking, but it sounded pretty much like her speech from when he first met her, so he wasn't too fussed about missing it. She left soon, telling them she would be back when they were ready, leaving them all to stand in terrified silence. Hermione Granger was talking very quickly and quietly, but Daniel didn't want to hear anything like how it had only taken her a few tries to cast the Hat-convincing spell that would send her where she wanted to be.

He glanced around at his new classmates, seeing if he could spot up Potter. Then he realised that he had no idea what the boy looked like. He'd just have to be distantly friendly to everyone he met, but not get _too _friendly. He'd been warned off getting close to Potter, and for good reason.

When the ghosts floated through the wall, talking about someone called Peeves a few people gasped, but Daniel stared at the faint silvery beings curiously. When McGonagall came back to tell them to enter the hall, Daniel kept his parents' words in his head and stepped forward, second in the line after a tiny girl with a long dark braid down her back.

The hall was huge, and apparently without a roof. There were four long tables in the middle, packed with black-robed students, and one going along the wall near where they had come out, where the teachers were seated. There were candles floating above the tables, making the golden plates and cups glow deeply. McGonagall set a stool out in front of the teachers' table and set the hat on it.

The hall was silent as everyone stared at the dull, ragged hat. Then, to Daniel's shock, a patch lifted, and it started to sing a song.

_Oh you may not think me pretty, _

_But don't judge on what you see, _

_I'll eat myself if you can find _

_A smarter hat than me. _

_You can keep your bowlers black, _

_Your top hats sleek and tall, _

_For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat _

_And I can cap them all. _

_There's nothing hidden in your head _

_The Sorting Hat can't see, _

_So try me on and I will tell you _

_Where you ought to be. _

_You might belong in Gryffindor,_

_Where dwell the brave at heart, _

_Their daring, nerve, and chivalry _

_Set Gryffindors apart; _

_You might belong in Hufflepuff,_

_Where they are just and loyal, _

_Those patient Hufflepuffs are true _

_And unafraid of toil; _

_Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_

_if you've a ready mind, _

_Where those of wit and learning, _

_Will always find their kind; _

_Or perhaps in Slytherin,_

_You'll make your real friends, _

_Those cunning folks use any means _

_To achieve their ends. _

_So put me on! Don't be afraid! _

_And don't get in a flap! _

_You're in safe hands (though I have none) _

_For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

Most of the first-years relaxed visibly afterwards and the hall rang with applause. As the applause died down, McGonagall stepped forward and lifted a long piece of thick paper. The first few students were sorted, including the girl in front of Daniel, Susan Bones, into Hufflepuff. When Seamus was called he walked up to the stool as though it was the electric chair, dropped the hat on his head and sat down, looking resigned.

The hat took a long time, longer than it had for anyone else so far. Maybe Seamus was trying to convince it not to put him in Hufflepuff. After almost a minute, the hat opened and shouted, "Gryffindor!"

Seamus's eyes widened in shock, and he ripped the hat off and put it back on the stool, giving it no chance to change its mind. He looked across at Lisa, Dean and Daniel, grinning at them before walking quickly to the table on the far left, where he was greeted with handshakes and back slaps enough to last him the rest of his life. Hermione Granger was sorted into Gryffindor straight after him, and Daniel wondered if he was quite as happy with the hat's choice _now._

Daniel's name was called after a pretty, dark-haired girl called Daphne Greengrass, and all the nerves he had somehow kept at bay came at him in a rush. Feeling like his head was detached from his body, he walked up to the stool, picked up the hat, sat down, and put the hat on.

_Not much to think about here, _he heard, in the same way he heard his parents' voices from his necklace._ It's a choice between __a few__, but I don't think it's a choice needs much thinking over.__You'll do best in SLYTHERIN!_

On the last word, the voice in his head was doubled by the voice coming out of the hat. More pleased than he thought he'd be, Daniel took off the hat, placed it carefully back on the stool and walked over to the only table clapping with any real feeling, the one second from the right. There were already four first-years there, two boys and two girls. The boys were apparently saving the seat between them, as they glowered at Daniel when he went towards them. He sat instead next to Daphne Greengrass on the other side.

"Hi," she said in a gentle Scots accent, smiling. "Daphne Greengrass."

"Daniel Livingstone," Daniel said, smiling back.

"Yes, I was wondering about that," she said curiously. "I haven't heard — "

She was interrupted by the next student to be sorted into Slytherin, a pale-faced blond boy called Draco Malfoy who dropped easily in to the space the other boys had saved, looking remarkably self-satisfied. He was followed quickly by Theodore Nott, a tall, skinny boy with dark blond hair, and Pansy Parkinson, whose face was round and kind of flat, framed by short dark hair. Pansy went to sit on Draco's side, and Theodore sat next to Daniel. He looked unhappy about something, but managed to smile weakly at his new housemates.

The hall fell into a dead silence when McGonagall called Harry Potter up. He was _tiny_, easily the smallest of the first years, with a shock of dark hair falling down over his eyes. Daniel's parents had told him Potter would probably go to Gryffindor, like _his_ parents. Sure enough, after a while the hat called, "Gryffindor!" The room erupted in cheers and applause. Most of the people on the Slytherin table looked completely unimpressed, though, and many were shooting the little dark-haired boy poisonous glances as he made his way quickly over to the Gryffindor table.

Daniel was honestly more interested in Dean's and Lisa's sorting, as they stood among the four remaining, along with a tall red-headed boy and one with shiny black skin and high cheekbones. Dean was called first, and it didn't take long for the hat to declare him a Gryffindor. He stumbled over his robes a little as he got off the stool, but Daniel could see his relief. He tried to feel happy for Dean and Seamus both. But honestly, he'd have preferred them to be all split up than to be left on his own while they all got to stay together.

There was still hope though, and his heart was in his mouth when Lisa bounced up onto the stool, her nervousness from earlier apparently dissipated. "Ravenclaw!" the hat shouted, so Daniel clapped for her and resigned himself to starting again. The redhead, Ronald Weasley, was sorted into Gryffindor, probably to become best mates with Seamus and Dean and Harry Potter, and the boy with the exotic looks, Blaise Zabini, joined them in Slytherin.

When the room went quiet again Daniel wasn't sure why, until he saw a skinny old man with pure white hair and long beard standing with his arms wide and a daft smile on his face. This must be Dumbledore.

"Welcome!" he said warmly. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are! Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

That complete and utter waste of time was apparently what passed for the gift of the gab around here, because the room burst into more cheering and applause. Looking across the staff table, Daniel was relieved to see a few teachers who didn't look particularly impressed. McGonagall was clapping, but only politely, a curvaceous blonde woman was looking sidelong at the Headmaster like he might leap at her and yell, "BOO!" any second, and a sallow, big-nosed man with long black hair was clapping along looking like he'd eaten ten of Dean's garlic beans and had his mouth taped shut.

When Daniel looked away from the staff table, it was to see the Slytherin table covered in roast meat and vegetables and the students helping themselves.

"I don't think I've heard of the Livingstones," Daphne said from beside him. "You are British, right?"

"Yeah," Daniel said, wishing he had a little more time before having to delve into the blood issues his parents had painstakingly prepared him for. "I don't know my actual parents, Livingstone is my adopted parents' name."

That caught the attention of all the first-years.

"You don't know your lineage?" Blaise asked, slanted eyes calculating.

Daniel shook his head. "I live with Muggles."

Eyes around him widened in horror.

"You must be a pureblood though," Draco Malfoy said, leaning forwards. "Otherwise you couldn't be in Slytherin."

"How could magical parents leave their child to be brought up by _Muggles_?" Blaise countered.

"There aren't any _Mudbloods_ in Slytherin, Blaise," Draco said.

"There have been," Blaise said darkly.

"Oh well," said Theodore Nott from Daniel's left. "Nothing to be done about it now."

Draco was not put off by that at all. "What are they like?" he asked, grey eyes fixed earnestly on Daniel's face.

Daniel shrugged. "They're my parents," he said, letting them take whatever meaning they liked from that. Whatever his parents had told him, he wasn't going to back down from Rick and Penny. He'd sooner quit magic altogether.

Draco's eyes softened, which was the exact opposite of what Daniel had expected to happen. Blaise snorted, and turned away from the conversation. The boys on either side of Draco were eating steadily, almost business-like. They were both big and dark-haired, and absolutely silent. Daphne was looking at Blaise thoughtfully, but he was now talking to Pansy, and Theodore was tapping his middle finger against the table anxiously.

Daniel forced himself not to turn around and try to see his friends from the train. Instead, he took some roast potatoes and slathered them with gravy. Draco had stopped looking at him, and was eating in a thoughtful silence.

"So this is all new to you, then?" Theodore asked him softly.

Daniel nodded.

"Poor you," he said. "This is the worst house for you to have found yourself in, raised by Muggles."

"I know some stuff," Daniel said quickly. "I'm okay here."

Theodore sighed. "I'm 'okay' too," he said. "I'm just saying, if there's trouble … "

"Okay," Daniel said, wondering why the show of support surprised him. "Thanks."

"Call me Theo, by the way," the boy said, turning back to his meal. "Everyone does."


	2. Best First Day Back Ever

A/N: [insert disclaimer here]. Also, you might have guessed quite a lot of time has passed between the prologue and now. I might write that stuff later, if I ever come to the end of this thing.

"Holy mother of all things unnatural," Daniel moaned, dropping his forehead onto the table.

"What?" Theo asked, grabbing at the parchment sitting loosely in his hand.

"Two-hour Charms class," Daniel said. "Two-hour Transfiguration. _Two-hour History_."

"Yeah, I know," Theo said. "But look, only one eight o'clock start. Except for not getting Friday morning off any more, I'd say this year's timetable is better."

Daniel stared at him. "_History of Magic for two hours, three times a week,_"he said, just in case Theo hadn't gotten the message.

Theo shrugged. "I'm more annoyed about finishing so late every day," he said. "Five o'clock every day except Monday."

Daniel took his timetable back, and looked it over. "What about Friday?" he asked. "I'm done at three on Friday."

Theo smiled a small smile, and pointed at his own timetable.

Daniel leaned over to read it. Then he started to laugh helplessly, so hard he couldn't see. When he started to calm down, Draco had arrived. The disdainful look on _his_ face set Daniel off again.

"I love you," he managed eventually, grabbing vaguely at his friend's hand. "You should have told me, I would have taken it with you."

"Instead of what?" Theo said, rolling his eyes. "You're in love with your new subjects already."

"I know," Daniel said. "But … _Muggle Studies_?" He cleared his throat in an attempt to calm down, but accidentally glanced at Draco again, and had to fight to keep a straight face. "It's a clever move on Theo's part, don't you think Draco?"

"Know your enemy," Draco said reluctantly, "I suppose."

"Very cunning," Daniel said, nodding. "If you ever need any lessons in that regard, feel free to ask me, I'd be happy to teach you anything you need to know."

"I will not be needing any lessons to understand you, Livingstone," Draco said haughtily. "I believe the Muggle term for your condition is 'batshit insane'."

That was a pair of words Daniel had never in his wildest dreams imagined could come out of Draco "Pureblood" Malfoy's mouth, and it took him a moment to recover. By the time he was back in the real world, Draco was eating his breakfast impassively, and Theo was comparing their timetables with one hand and waving his wand to cut up his sausage with the other.

"Right," Daniel said, still catching up. "Is Flitwick just going to do a review lesson like he did last year?"

Theo shrugged. "I guess," he said, dropping his wand and picking up his fork. "Probably something similar in Herbology, too. And I got more note-taking quills from home, so maybe in History you could check over the holiday homework I did for Muggle Studies."

Another burst of laughter escaped Daniel before he could clamp his lips closed. "Sure," he said after a moment. "What's it on?"

"Electricity," Theo said, pronouncing it carefully like it was in a foreign language.

"Ah," Daniel said, nodding wisely. "That's my favourite colour."

"Herbology's with Ravenclaw again," Theo said, as if Daniel hadn't spoken. "And Potions with Gryffindor."

"Excellent," Daniel said. "Hijinks all around."

People around them were starting to get up, many sighing deeply before setting off to their first class. Blaise and Daphne were already joined at the hip, and Draco was heading up his little posse of Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy. Millicent had been sitting up with the fourth-years, but was nowhere to be seen now. So, much like it had been at their very first breakfast, Daniel and Theo exchanged a glance and followed in their wake.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Charms was, as he'd expected, dedicated to reminding them of everything they had learned in last year, and some stuff from the year before. Also like last year, Daniel found that being out of practice had seriously drained both his muscle memory and his magical energy. He figured it was probably too early in the year to hound Terry for advice, so he settled down with Theo, who was always too somber on first days back. Daphne sat on his other side, a pleasant buffer to Blaise. While trying to levitate, singe and colour the feathers in front of him, he put his mind to coming up with a plan to perk up his friend. Unfortunately, the most foolproof way to cheer Theo up was to piss off Draco or Blaise, which really wasn't the best way to start the year.

He glanced across quickly at Potter, and was then left wondering why. The Gryffindor boy was laughing with Weasley about something, feathers forgotten. Granger was waving her wand intently and completely ignoring their conversation.

Something tickled him on the back of the neck. He considered ignoring it, but if it was Draco or Lisa they wouldn't stop until he had turned around. He swung around in his seat, but there wasn't a single wand pointed at him. Draco was floating his newly green-and-silver feather in front of the Ravenclaw boys, and Lisa was … miserable. She was sitting between Seamus and McDougall, incinerating all her feathers one by one. McDougall was talking excitedly to Brocklehurst next to her. Seamus caught Daniel's eye, and tilted his head ever so slightly at Lisa.

Daniel looked around for Flitwick, who was out the front of the room talking slowly to Longbottom while keeping an eye out for the rest of the room. It was a big job for that one eye, though, so Daniel turned to sit the other way on his chair and scraped it across the floor to end up in front of Lisa.

"Hey Seamus," he said.

"Hey," Seamus said. "Practise much over the hols?"

"That would be wrong," Daniel told him sternly. Seamus rolled his eyes at him, and made one of his feathers fly into Dean's face.

"Hey Lisa?" Daniel said once the boys were thoroughly busy fencing each other with their levitated feathers. "I'm pretty sure you've got it."

She looked at him fiercely. It was a look Daniel knew better than he'd like to, from all the times _he'd_ used anger to stop himself from crying.

"Want to talk after class?" he offered casually.

Her look softened, and she put her wand down onto the table. She didn't speak though, only nodded and waved him back to his table.

"The bigger the feather, the better it feels blasting it to bits," he told her in parting.

When Flitwick made it to Daniel's row, he seemed satisfied with the Hufflepuffs, with Theo, with Daphne and very much with Blaise. Daniel, worrying and wondering about Lisa, was even worse than he had been when he had first sat down. His first Diffindo only caused a slight tear, the second did nothing at all.

"Ah, Daniel," Flitwick said sadly. "Suffering from your summer break yet again?"

Daniel shrugged. "Nothing's really working," he admitted.

Flitwick frowned, but Daniel knew it was actual concern, not disapproval. He liked Flitwick, maybe most of all the teachers. "Please remain for a few minutes after class. I won't keep you long."

"Sure," Daniel said, looking glumly at his mostly-whole feather.

"Cheer up," Daphne said brightly from beside him once Flitwick had returned to the front of the classroom. "You weren't as bad as Longbottom. I was watching him before."

"Great, thanks," Daniel said with false brightness. "You always know how to make me feel better."

She gave him a sly look, then smiled sweetly at Blaise beside her. Daniel didn't know how she managed it; she was Blaise's girlfriend, but he was never mad at her for how well she got on with Daniel, though he would blow up at Draco whenever he thought the other boy was being too "tolerant". She walked a fine line, apparently effortlessly.

For the second hour of class, Flitwick quizzed them all on the theory in the first few chapters of the text. That wasn't so bad, as at least half the class had only sketchy answers to his questions. The week Daniel had spent in Diagon Alley with nothing to do but mope around and read his textbooks meant he did passably well.

After class, he motioned apologetically to Lisa to wait. She looked at him, brown eyes dull, and nodded. Daniel was left behind in the room with Longbottom and Morris. Flitwick cast something, and a new set of feathers appeared at the students' desks.

"You are all three welcome to attend any second-year Charms classes you are available for," he said. "It is not compulsory, nor is it a punishment. It is an opportunity for you to strengthen your basic skills, one I recommend you seriously consider taking."

Morris was nodding grimly, like she'd just pledged her life to his service. Longbottom went red and scuffed his foot on the ground. Daniel was just mad that his year had to start like this. As if remedial reading in primary school hadn't been bad enough.

Flitwick was watching him, looking worried.

"I don't want to," he said, and left the room before anything more could be said about it. Lisa was waiting against the opposite wall, rubbing at her eyes. When the door opened she looked up, and took half a step towards him before getting hold of herself.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

Daniel shrugged, wishing he hadn't been such an idiot as to offer _his _shoulder for her to cry on. "Are you hungry?" he asked indifferently.

She laughed a pained laugh, and shook her head.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go outside."

They walked together down to the bottom floor, and out into the grounds. When Daniel slowed down, she shook her head. "Let's go further," she said. "Away from people."

That was fine with Daniel. He walked as far as she wanted, and sank down to sit next to her in the warm grass.

"What did Flitwick say?" she said, getting settled.

"Remedial Charms," Daniel said glumly. "No one from third year took classes with _us_ last year, but we make a special case. Class of the retards."

She shrugged. "Better than failing," she said. "Flitwick's only trying to help."

"I _know_," Daniel snapped. "I just don't like being lumped in with Longbottom and Morris as class idiot, and having everyone know it!"

Her mouth tightened. "You're no better at Charms than they are," she said. "Maybe they should be offended about being lumped in with you, since they're both really nice and you're being such a snob."

"What would you know about it?" Daniel asked, surprisingly hurt by the accusation. "You can do _everything_. I bet you were reading before you were even at school. You have never had to fight to learn the simplest things, and still stay on top of the pack in Slytherin of all places, Muggle-raised and 'Muggle-loving', and - " he cut himself off in horror, half of him on the verge of saying 'fated to face the Dark Lord', and the other half noticing the helpless tears streaming down her face and dripping off her chin.

He wanted a smoke. He really, badly wanted a smoke. He hadn't believed Penny when she'd told him this would happen. It was stupid of him not to have listened, and now it was making him all tetchy. "Lisa, I'm sorry," he said. "I was just - "

She started to sob. He knew what he was meant to do. He was meant to shift across to her, touch her on the shoulder, maybe even hug her, or at least let her hug him. But his head hurt, and if he let her cry on him it made things weird. Surely she had friends - girl friends, in her own house, that she could cry with. Not him.

He wanted to offer _her _a smoke. He wanted to close his eyes and drop back five years to where everything was about him and the hardest thing he'd had to learn was to call Penny and Rick's house home.

Just as he was starting to despair of the moment ever ending, she stopped crying. He looked across at her warily, not sure if her anger had lasted through the tears.

"I'm sorry. I was mad and stupid," he said tentatively. "I did really want to help you." _But now I just want you to go away, _he thought, and hated himself.

"You can't help me," she said, sniffing softly. "I thought maybe you'd be a pleasant distraction."

"Didn't work," Daniel said pointlessly.

She laughed, and her tears welled up again. "Yeah," she said. "Bad idea."

"One of your worst," he agreed.

She sighed. "Well I've already blown it by breaking down, I don't see how this could get any more embarrassing for either of us," she said in resignation. "My sister died back in July."

"Oh," Daniel said. "Um, sorry."

"It's not for pity," she said quickly. "I just thought I should explain."

"Right, okay," he said, trying desperately to think of the right thing to say.

She was looking very confused.

"Maybe we should go to lunch," Daniel said, hardly aware of the words coming out of his mouth.

"Yeah," she said, rising to her feet. "I think I'll go to the bathroom now."

She turned and started to walk off.

"You've already cried in front of me once, so if you need to again, I don't see how it could be any worse," he said, desperate for it not to end so awkwardly. Then he thought back on his words, and decided he'd just made it weirder.

She smiled at him crookedly, and made her way back to the castle.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel wondered sometimes why anyone even bothered to turn up to History. Sleeping was much more comfortable in bed, or at least in the common room. Usually he'd be grateful for a class that just told him the readings out loud, but there was some quality to Binns' voice that made Daniel suspect he was a trained hypnotist. There were a few among the third years that could withstand the drone, but Daniel wasn't one of them. He usually just scabbed off Terry's notes, which he had scabbed off Anthony Goldstein. Between Goldstein, Granger, Abbott and the textbook, the whole year usually cobbled together enough history to pass their exams. Note-taking quills, though perfect in theory, tended to lose their ability to pick out the important bits pretty quickly out of the box.

Unlike in second year, this time Daniel didn't even try to start afresh. As soon as he sat next to Theo, he stuck out his hand. "Essay me," he said.

Theo handed over a roll of parchment. "Make all the corrections you need," he said, "But please don't laugh."

Daniel grinned a toothy grin and set to reading. "This is pretty good," he commented about halfway through. "How'd you find all this stuff out?"

Theo gave him a funny look. "It's in the textbook," he said.

"Well the textbook knows more about this stuff than I do," he admitted. "In a year you'll know more about Muggles than me."

"What's in here that you don't know?" Theo asked, grabbing at his essay.

"Normal Muggles don't care what electricity is made of," Daniel told him. "We just use it. Electricians need to understand wiring and insulation and voltage and all this stuff, normal people don't."

"But it's everywhere," Theo protested. "And it can kill you!"

Daniel shrugged.

"I'll have to add in a bit about 'intellectual apathy'," Theo said, smirking and pulling out a quill.

"— was for this reason that in 1416 the disgraced Warlock Allington Marsh was given the choice to abide by the council's original decision or call on his old mentor Bigby to reconvene the Elder —"

Daniel let his head drop down onto the table, and zoned out as far as he possibly could.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

In the hour between History and Defense, Daniel claimed to be going to the bathroom but went straight down to his dormitory. He closed the curtains around his bed and reached up for his necklace, determined to keep his focus on the things that mattered. His parents' voices seeped into his mind, and he felt he could finally relax.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

They arrived at the Defence classroom just as Lupin did. He smiled at them pleasantly, and waved them away from the door. "Today's class will be a practical class," he said. "Follow me, please."

"Pleased to meet you too," Theo muttered as they fell in behind their new teacher. Daniel felt as glum as his friend sounded; more raw spellcasting to cap off a ghastly first day back. With his luck, they'd probably be fighting a ghast this period. Or maybe fifty.

Lupin led them to the staffroom, to general surprise. They stood together, Blaise even deigning to stand within ten feet of Daniel, to present a united front to the new teacher. Lupin, Draco had told them, was an old enemy of Snape's, and so by default an enemy of the whole of Slytherin.

"There is a Boggart in that desk," Lupin said mildly, pointing. The desk rattled violently. Daniel could only see Draco and Goyle's faces, and both of them looked disturbed enough to worry him.

"Now who can tell me what a Boggart is?" Lupin asked, scratching his nose.

Daniel felt his housemates shifting uncomfortably.

"Whatever it thinks frightens you the most," Daphne said eventually.

"Exactly," Lupin said. "Now can anyone tell me whether the Boggart is a true shapeshifter, or merely a master illusionist?"

"Shapeshifter," Blaise said, sounding bored. "The more fear around it, the more strength the shape will have. Feeds off the stuff."

"Excellent, Blaise!" Lupin said, and from that moment Daniel hated him. "Now, what is the advantage that we, as a group, have over the Boggart at this moment?"

"It's in a desk," Daniel said. He heard Draco snicker, and Crabbe and Goyle chuckle accordingly.

"Let us leave aside for the moment the creature's confinement," Lupin said coolly. "Vincent? Any ideas?"

It took a moment for Daniel to realise who he was talking to. It apparently took a while for Crabbe to process as well. "Uh, we can overpower it," he said eventually.

"Not quite," Lupin said. "What does the Boggart use as its strength?"

"Fear," Crabbe grunted.

"How do you think it knows just what will be the most effective shape?" Lupin pressed.

"Mind-reading," Crabbe said, starting to sound almost interested.

Blaise cut in, apparently not patient enough to let Lupin coach the answer out of Crabbe. "It will be getting mixed signals, and find it difficult to fix on a form," he said. Goyle glared at him.

"Pretty stupid creature, then," Draco said.

Lupin looked at him inquiringly. "The thing feeds on terror," Draco said smugly. "There are ten people in this room. Why doesn't it just fix itself as something that everyone's going to fear, even if it's not anyone's greatest fear precisely. There's such a thing as being too narrowly focused."

"Indeed," Lupin said, looking impressed. "The Boggart is a primal creature, not a rational one. Its mind is simplistic, and the spell to repel it is similarly straightforward as a concept. Millicent? How would you defeat a creature whose power was in the fear it generated?"

"Stop being afraid," she said, shrugging. "Recognise it for what it is."

"Excellent," Lupin said. "That will certainly weaken the Boggart, and make it easier to dismiss. The dismissal itself, however, requires a more active approach. Daniel? What emotion would you say is the opposite to fear?"

"Joy," Daniel said carelessly. "Confidence. Whimsy. I don't think emotions have actual _opposites._"

"You're on the right track," Lupin said. "The one thing that a Boggart cannot stand is laughter."

"That's not even an emotion," Daniel muttered, but he was drowned out by Theo, speaking a little more loudly than he needed to.

"So we have to laugh at it more than we fear it?" he said.

"We have to force it to change shape, into something we find amusing," Lupin said. "The most effective way of doing this is with subtle change, subverting its form rather than changing it entirely. A complete change takes an extreme amount of magic, which the Boggart can counter using its own energy. As Draco has pointed out, the Boggart is not an intelligent creature, and has no creativity of its own."

Daniel was starting to worry about why they had an actual Boggart in the room. Sure, the desk rattling was creepy, but not needed to complete the mental exercise that Lupin was suggesting.

"Before we go into the details of the required spell, I want you all to have a think about your own personal Boggart, and how you could manipulate its shape into something comical. Once you have this idea in your head, we'll practise the spell, and then we'll give it a try on our noisy friend here."

Daniel took an involuntary step back. "What?" he said. "You're _kidding_ me."

"I am not kidding you, Daniel," Lupin said calmly. "There's no use learning the spell without learning to use it in the field."

"You can't just unleash our worst fears on us!" Daniel protested. "You don't even know what we're afraid of. It could be _anything_, and everyone in this room would see it and know it. That's not fair on any of us." He was thinking of the news in his necklace, and barely holding back his panic at something as stupid as a Defence lesson exposing the secret that his parents had worked so hard to keep.

People were looking up at him, but the face Daniel noticed was Draco's, full of guarded relief. There was an ally there, if he needed one.

"This is an exercise in facing one's fears, Daniel — "

"And we're only kids, so our fears don't mean shit?" Daniel snapped, completely unable to hold on to his temper for another second of this stupid day. "Sure, maybe some of us are scared to death of ghosts, or heights or something like that, but a lot of us in this room have actually had to live through some shit that maybe we don't want paraded around a fucking _classroom_!"

The aura of comfortable affability had dropped from Lupin, and everyone seemed to be looking at him with some suspicion. He didn't seem to have anything to say though, so Daniel kept at him.

"I'd rather have Quirrell back, or even Lockhart, than this. They were retarded and pathetic, but at least they didn't deliberately plan lessons that would hurt their students, and pretend they were _helping_ us."

"Some of us are made of quite stern stuff, Daniel," Blaise said, smiling wickedly. "_I'm_ not afraid of the monster under the bed."

"You don't have to be," Draco said, surreptitiously closer to Daniel than before. "It's about the power a teacher has over his students. No professor can make us do anything like this, and so we shouldn't let them."

Blaise's dark eyes glittered unpleasantly, but he held his tongue. "Interesting," he said. Draco's cheeks tinged pink, but he stared Blaise down.

Lupin seemed to have recovered somewhat. "If anyone wishes to not attempt the spell on the Boggart, they will not be forced to," he said. "I am not here to cause psychological damage to my students. However, Boggarts being on the curriculum, at some point this year you shall each have to demonstrate to me your command of the spell facing this Boggart."

"Or what?" Pansy asked, face defiant. Her eyes flickered across to Draco to gauge his reaction, but Draco was still gazing levelly at Blaise.

"Would you do it?" Daphne asked curiously before Lupin could answer. "Would you show your greatest fear to every one of us you have facing ours?"

"Would you have done it when you were thirteen?" Blaise added, slinging his arm around her shoulders.

"I think we shall return to the classroom for today," Lupin said. "Collect your things."

As they made their way back through the corridors, Daniel felt almost like they were united as a house. It had taken an old Gryffindor threatening them with the exposure of their deepest darkest fears, but together they had really taken him down.

"You swore at him, and you accused him of trying to hurt us, and you refused to obey him, and not only do you not have detention, he didn't take off a single point," Theo muttered unbelievingly in his ear.

"Gryffindors are very sensitive to the whole moral high ground thing," Daniel told him loudly. "As soon as they think they're in the wrong, they lose all their zest, and people can pretty much have their way with them. It's one of their most lovable qualities."

"Daniel, I will be speaking to you personally after class," Lupin said without turning around. "Until then, I think you would be best served staying quiet."

"Sure," he said cheerfully, while he could still muster up the energy.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

After the class, Daniel rose and walked up to the desk before Lupin could tell him to.

"I can't believe that you thought this was a good idea," he told the professor pleasantly, letting simple honesty do its magic.

"Slytherin wasn't the first house to receive that lesson," Lupin said, gesturing for Daniel to sit at a desk at the front.

Daniel didn't. "Doesn't matter if they all went along with it happy as Larry," he said, "It's still wrong, and I won't do it."

"For special dispensation you'll have to apply to the Headmaster. That, however, is not the main issue here."

"I won't be apologising," Daniel said firmly.

"No, and I won't be asking you to. You were understandably distressed." Daniel narrowed his eyes at the tone, but let the man continue. "If it happens again, however, I will not be so lenient."

"Right," Daniel said easily. "Understood. May I go?"

"Not quite yet," Lupin said. "I have one more thing to say to you."

"Yeah?"

"I apologise for what I put you through this afternoon; it was never my intention to cause anyone such distress."

Unhappy with the sincerity of the apology, Daniel let all his simmering anxiety keep him angry. "Didn't put much thought into it, then?" he asked as coldly as he could.

Lupin's eyes were soft and sad, and he didn't even try to answer the question.

"Feel bad about it as much as you like, but don't think it makes anything better. I need to go to my next class now." Without waiting for a response, Daniel wheeled around and left the classroom. He would go to dinner, and he would go to sleep. And in a couple of days, he'd go to Snape.


	3. Runes & Charms, Gryffindors & Ravenclaws

"Wake up," someone said, and Daniel's curtains shook. "Ten minutes to breakfast."

He woke up, and straight away started to dread that afternoon's Charms. He distracted himself by thinking about Transfiguration, and then getting his first shot at Runes straight after. Maybe he'd skip Charms, and just practise on his own. It's not like going to class had been helping so far. All it had really done was make Lisa cry.

His dorm mates could tease him all they liked about being obsessive, but they all had to wake up at least half an hour before breakfast to make it in time. He got out of bed, changed quickly, grabbed his pre-packed bag and made it up to the Great Hall just in time for Theo to grab him, coming the other way, and push him right back out again. He handed Daniel a couple of sausages and ushered him far, far away.

"What?" Daniel asked, chewing nervously.

"They're fighting about you again," Theo said. "Blaise is getting pretty nasty."

Daniel yawned, and Theo averted his eyes in disgust. "Straight to Transfiguration, then?" Daniel said lightly.

"Sure," Theo said. "Grant says first lesson in third year McGonagall does her Animagus."

"Do we get to learn?" Daniel said eagerly. "That stuff's sick."

"Sick?" Theo said doubtfully. "I don't think - "

"Sick as in wicked," Daniel said. "It means good, you idiot. Write it down for your Muggle Studies class, impress them with the lingo. When is that, by the way?"

"Tomorrow, after Charms."

They arrived at the Transfiguration classroom, a quarter of an hour early. Theo glanced sidelong at Daniel, who pretended not to notice. "So are you going to take the extra Charms?" he asked.

"No," Daniel growled. "I'm not taking 'extra' Charms."

"You should," Theo told him, unmoved. "If you fail Charms, they might make you repeat."

"They can't make you repeat for just one subject," Daniel said scornfully. "I'm fine with everything else."

"Except Defence."

"What's your problem?" Daniel said irritably.

"If you think for one second I am going to let you stay back and repeat a year and leave me in this snakepit alone, you are _dead wrong._"

"Oh," Daniel said stupidly. Then doubt hit him. "Could they really make me repeat a whole year? Couldn't I just admit defeat in Charms and do everything else?"

"You'd have to ask Flitwick or Snape about it for sure, but if you fail two they definitely can. And Charms is probably the one they care about most."

Daniel let his head fall back onto the stone wall with a thunk. "Taking the same lessons over again is not going to help," he said. "When I thought I would be able to get it last year, I couldn't. Now I know I can't, so how could I? It's pointless."

"That's certainly the attitude that'll get you there," Theo told him.

Daniel sighed, and they stood in silence until the others started arriving. All the Gryffindors, a couple of Hufflepuffs, Blaise, Daphne and Millicent came rushing along from somewhere just as the door opened and the first-years piled out of the classroom. Daniel was first in as soon as they had all cleared the doorframe. He sat in the seat closest to the door, despite the fact that it was in the front row, and decided to be good.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Why did it always have to be about bloody Potter? McGonagall had _turned herself into a cat_, but everyone seemed far more interested in what Trelawney, who was obviously insane, had predicted for Potter's future in Divination. Maybe if Daniel became an Animorph — _Animagus_, he reminded himself — he could be an elephant and stomp the Dark Lord down like a peanut. That was better than his current plan, which was to drop a nuke on the whole country and be done with it.

"Hey Daniel," someone said from behind him. Daniel turned to see Terry jogging ahead of his Ravenclaw friends to walk with him. Most of Slytherin and Ravenclaw were taking Ancient Runes, as well as Ernie MacMillan and Hermione Granger. "How was your summer?"

_Hell,_ Daniel thought. "It was okay," he said. "The whole no-magic-over-summer thing is coming back to bite me though."

Terry laughed. "Yeah," he said. "I promised Flitwick I'd re-do the exam essay, fixing all my mistakes, you know? Now he gets that sad little look on his face whenever he looks at me. And I completely forgot about Herbology, I don't know how that happened. Lucky we don't have it till Thursday."

Daniel shrugged. "You'll live," he said, not feeling sympathetic. By then they had arrived at the Runes classroom, on the third floor and as far away from Transfiguration as Daniel imagined it could be.

"You have a look at the text?" Terry asked as he pushed the door open.

"Yeah," Daniel said. "Looks pretty cool."

This classroom was a lot smaller than any Daniel had been in before. It would fit maybe fifteen students, and Daniel counted thirteen in the class. Babbling was nowhere to be seen, but she'd always been late when she took their study hall, so Daniel wasn't surprised. He sat next to Terry, and there were so few seats that he ended up with Granger on his other side. Great. She already had all her stuff out, and was fidgeting with a quill in her hand.

"Chill out," Daniel told her. "Babbling's always late."

She looked at him in surprise. "I know," she said. "I —"

Babbling rushed in at that point, carrying a thin case and a flask of something. "Sorry to be late," she said, flustered as always. "Welcome to Ancient Runes. I'm not going to bother with the register, I can see you're all here." When she put the flask down on her desk it nearly spilled. In catching it, she knocked a pile of parchment off her desk. She pulled out her wand, waved it absently, and all the sheets flew back up and arranged themselves neatly.

Granger's jiggling was really starting to get on Daniel's nerves. She was like a bloody two-year-old. "Can you _sit still_?" he hissed at her.

"Runes are an ancient form of magic, inexplicably fallen out of favour in recent times, but no less powerful for that fact," Babbling said, walking back and forth in front of them. Granger started to take notes. "Even Muggles realise that in what they call medieval times runes were at least considered a conduit for mystical energy. They would be surprised to learn that their historical artefacts still contain traces of magic centuries old."

Granger's hand shot into the air. Daniel edged his chair away from her. "Yes, Miss Granger?" Babbling said in some surprise.

"Muggle museums mostly have artifacts of everyday application such as coins and clay tablets," Granger announced to the room at large. "How could magic like that last more than a millennium?"

"Runic magic is a magic that uses less of the magic of the caster, and more ambient magic from the rune's surroundings," Babbling told her. "A well-crafted rune, even one simply for household protection, will continue to channel this energy for as long as it physically exists, a fact that makes it even more baffling how little most witches and wizards these days know about runes in general.

"This year's curriculum is designed to give you a broad introduction to runes as they have been used all over the world, and give you solid theoretical groundwork for the years to follow. I cannot impress upon you enough the sheer idiocy it would be to begin attempting runic magic without discussing it with me. Anyone who does discuss it with me will be told in no uncertain terms that you will be waiting until next year or, more likely, fifth year.

"Anyone who decides otherwise, if they are still alive after an attempt, will be kicked out of this class and hopefully the entire school. Runic magic is powerful, but it is not a wizard's own power which drives it. A mistake will not result in no effect, but a disastrous effect, usually far out of proportion to the intended result."

Daniel had never seen a teacher looking this serious in a classroom. Babbling was barely older than twenty-five, he was sure, but she knew her shit, and had them all fascinated.

Once she was convinced that her words had sunk in, she turned to the board. "Now, if any of you are familiar with runes at all, it is probably with the Futhorc, which looks like this." She waved her wand, and a bunch of characters appeared on the board. "This is where we will start, but it is important to remember that there are different rune systems all over the world, not just the European family."

Daniel copied the figures out thoughtfully. It felt right to be using a quill instead of a pen, for once. Kind of like calligraphy. Babbling spent the rest of the hour going on about the history of British magic, with Granger regularly inserting irrelevant facts about the Muggle perspective, and druids, and whatever the hell else popped into her head that she felt like sharing.

Babbling farewelled them with instructions to memorise the runes she'd shown them, with name, symbol and meaning by their next class on Friday. As soon as they were out of the room, everyone started complaining.

"Two years until we get to _try_?" Terry said despairingly.

"Does she think we're incompetent or something, to try and scare us off like we were children?" Draco whinged.

"I thought she'd at least _show_ us something," Lisa added.

Daniel didn't care. Runes felt right, and he wasn't in a rush to get himself killed. He wandered down to lunch with the rest of them, wondering if runic power was one the Dark Lord was at all familiar with. If he wasn't, maybe Daniel could design his own rune or something, that would last absolutely forever and no one would ever have to worry about a Dark Lord again.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

If Theo hadn't hammered on Daniel's conscience about Charms, he probably would have skived it off to start looking into his rune idea, or maybe to find some of the books McGonagall had talked about that morning. As it was he went to class, but despite his best intentions he found it all flying over his head. How was he meant to cast countercharms by touch, and react to alterations in the original charm when he could hardly cast simple charms on their own? Something dark and hot was sitting in his stomach, getting heavier and heavier as the lesson wore on. The ideas made sense to him, but understanding the theory had never helped him in the past.

Eventually the theoretical section of the lesson was over. Daniel would have been happy to let it go all day if it meant they could cancel the practical.

"You don't have to partner with me, you know," Daniel told Theo, who looked across at him in surprise as he stood up. "I'm not going to be able to give you anything to counter," he added.

"Shut up," Theo said. "Either you're failing and you need to do extra work, or you don't need the extra work so you won't have a problem in class. You don't get it both ways." His pale blue eyes met Daniel's firmly.

"You're going to talk me into retaking the lessons, aren't you," Daniel said, relieved, standing up beside him.

"Well you obviously don't have enough sense to talk yourself into it," Theo said. "Want to try Reducio? I'll enlarge it, you try to draw it back. It's easier to bring something back to its natural state. That should give us both good practice."

They had been provided with small round sponges and Daniel glared at theirs. He pulled out his wand though, and waited for Theo to start.

"_Engorgio_," his friend said, a smile playing around his lips. The sponge gradually grew. Theo looked at Daniel expectantly.

"_Reducio_," Daniel said, jabbing his wand halfheartedly at the expanding sponge. The growth stopped immediately. He looked up at Theo, ready to tell him off in no uncertain terms, but his friend still had his wand on the sponge, and was looking just as surprised as Daniel felt.

"What's with that?" Theo said, withdrawing his wand.

"No idea," Daniel said, doing the same.

"Try again," Theo said. "_Engorgio_."

"_Reducio_," Daniel said immediately. The sponge didn't shrink, but it didn't grow either.

"Go on your own," Theo said, taking a few steps back and crossing his arms over his chest.

Daniel frowned at the sponge for a moment before pointing his wand. "_Reducio._"

Nothing happened.

Theo approached the table again, wand out. "_Facio onerum_," he said, and picked the sponge up in his free hand. Daniel watched as his muscles grew more tense with the effort of holding it up. "Go on," he said, nodding at Daniel.

"_Tollo onerum_," Daniel said. He waited for Theo's reaction to see if it had worked. After a few moments, Theo looked up from the sponge to Daniel, clearly baffled. He put the sponge back down on the table.

"That makes absolutely no sense," he said, voice high with disbelief. "Let's get Flitwick."

"Why?" Daniel said quickly. "I can obviously do countercharms, what more do we need to know?"

Theo's eyes narrowed. "You can't reverse the charm though," he said. "Only stop mine."

"Well that's the idea, right? Flitwick will get here eventually, anyway."

"Okay then, you try shrinking it now."

"You should probably put it back to normal weight," Daniel pointed out. "Keep it simple."

"_Finite Incantatem_," Theo said, and the sponge shrank back down to its original size. "Okay, go."

"_Reducio_," Daniel said, willing the spell to work, even if only this once.

He wasn't surprised when it did absolutely nothing. He'd only ever managed to cast Engorgioonce, Reducionever. "This is useless," he said, going back and sitting in his seat. "Just practise with Bones and Abbott."

"I want to see if I can break your countercharm," Theo said. "_Reducio_."

Daniel's patience had worn out. And anyway, if he never tried it again, he'd only ever have memories of _success_ at countercharms. He watched from his seat as the sponge shrank slowly.

"Having difficulties?" Flitwick said from behind him.

"No," Daniel said. "Theo's just working on his touch."

"Give me a countercharm then, please," Flitwick said, watching the sponge carefully. "Speed it up a little Mr. Nott, if you would."

Theo's forehead creased and the sponge started to shrink at an alarming rate.

"_Engorgio_," Daniel said, pointing his wand.

"Now push it the other way," Flitwick suggested, without even a suggestion of surprise in his tone at Daniel's success.

Daniel tried, he really did. But he didn't know what he was pushing, or where. It just gave him a headache.

"Mr. Nott, wand up," Flitwick instructed, and Theo pulled out. It didn't help. Daniel lifted his wand soon after, shaking his head.

"Theo hasn't been able to practise," he said guiltily. "I can't do the charm for him to counter."

Flitwick gave him a meaningful look.

"I'll take the lessons, okay?" Daniel said. "After this class on Mondays and Wednesdays. Can I go now? I feel sick."

"Do you still have last year's book?" Flitwick asked.

"Sure," Daniel said. "I'm not good enough at Charms to be able to burn the thing."

Flitwick chuckled. "You may spend the rest of this lesson writing a short piece on why you think you are capable of strong countercharms, but not charms of your own. Now, Mr. Nott, let's see how you do."

Daniel tried to block out all the noise and activity from the room, and think about his bizarre new-found ability. It was incredibly hard to concentrate, and his headache wasn't helping. When Flitwick declared the class dismissed, he handed over his parchment and left before Flitwick could read it and call him back. He'd be seeing plenty of the man tomorrow, after all.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He found last year's Charms textbook considerably worse for wear in the depths of his trunk, and flipped through it aimlessly. He'd probably be better off repeating his first year. He hadn't been this abysmally bad back then, he'd been at least as good as Theo, and he still could do some of the earliest ones they'd learned, about half the time. He lay back on his bed, looking over the wand movement diagrams, all familiar, all useless.

He woke up starving. The book was face down on his chest, and the lamp by his bed that shone to match the sunlight outside was glowing only faintly.

Not all that upset to have slept through Defence, he sat up stiffly and dropped the book back into his trunk. He was surprised no one had woken him, but it was possible no one had come up yet. He stretched his neck out and headed up to the common room.

Seeing Theo sitting with Millicent, he walked over to join them.

"Hey," Theo said, while Millicent smiled distantly. "Did you hear what the Boggart was for Longbottom?"

Daniel shook his head. Just the thought of the Boggart made him uneasy.

"Apparently it was Snape," Theo said, half-smiling half-frowning. "And Lupin coached the idiot to turn it into Snape wearing Madam Longbottom's clothes."

"Longbottom's Boggart was _Snape_?" Daniel repeated incredulously. "Didn't Draco say Longbottom's parents were tortured into insanity? By the Lestranges?"

Theo looked at him, like that was the last thing he'd expected Daniel to say. "Yeah," he said.

"Draco's right," Daniel said. "Boggarts are stupid as hell. There is no way Snape is scarier than that. Even for Longbottom."

"I guess," Theo said. Millicent got up and left. "But he might be now."

"Yeah, Potions tomorrow," Daniel said, taking Millicent's seat. "This Lupin guy's really fucked it up for Longbottom. I wonder if he realises that?"

"Well what was he supposed to do?" Theo asked, sounding over-reasonable. "He had to make Snape funny somehow. It was a pretty smart idea. Look how well it worked."

"Sure," Daniel agreed. "If you think using a shapeshifting, fear-eating Dark creature to terrorise thirteen-year-old kids and then, while getting back at an old enemy, actually make their fears more dangerous, then sure. _Brilliant_ idea."

"No one's really terrorised," Theo said, suddenly very serious. "A lot of people are saying it made them feel stronger."

Daniel laughed bitterly. "Right," he said. "I guess that means nobody got hurt at all. Why didn't you say earlier that people claim to be brave enough to face their fears? I'm sure nobody's going to lie about something like _that_ to the whole school." He got up, and went out.

Walking along the corridor in the vague direction of the library, he wondered what Theo's Boggart would have been. Or Blaise's. He was pretty sure he knew for Draco.

He wondered what Potter's Boggart was. Surely people would be talking about it if the Dark Lord had shown his face in a third year Defence class. Then again, Potter would never have actually seen the Dark Lord, so there probably wasn't a picture in his head for the Boggart to take its shape from. He'd have to ask around, see — no. The Boggart was wrong, so Daniel would stop thinking about it. It was unfair, to get a free look at that kind of thing.

He came out of his thoughts to late to be able to avoid the few people walking the other way along the corridor, and he almost groaned when he saw who it was.

He should really have known better. Speak of the devil, and he will appear, after all. He had just wanted to see Terry, and maybe ask him to look over his Potions essay for tomorrow, but going up above the dungeons always increased the risk of Gryffindor, and more specifically, Potter and pals. Potter had been bad-tempered whenever Daniel had come into contact with him so far this year, probably because of his fainting fit on the train, and he wasn't above taking it out on those around him. It wasn't a good time to be a Slytherin.

"What are _you _looking at?" Potter snarled at Daniel as soon as they were within talking distance. Granger tugged on his arm anxiously, but with Weasley right at his shoulder, Potter wasn't likely to back off.

"I'm just walking," Daniel said, trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. "I'm not getting in your way."

"Stay out of it then," Potter said, apparently thinking he was an imposing figure.

"Thanks, I will," Daniel said, and brushed past them. Weasley, of course, stuck out his shoulder for him to bump into. Daniel gritted his teeth and held back the sigh. As much as he didn't want it to be him, he couldn't bear thinking that the fate of the world might lie in Potter's hands, however earnest he might be about defeating evil, or however "pure" his heart might be.

He got to the library about an hour before it was going to close, and found Terry without too much trouble. He was, of course, sitting with Corner and Goldstein but making eyes at Mandy Brocklehurst, who was scowling at a book in front of her. Daniel was pretty sure the Ravenclaw Patil was more than ready to notice Terry, but the idiot had been obsessed with Brocklehurst for as long as Daniel had known him.

Daniel sat one table over from the Ravenclaws, and floated his Potions essay over to settle in front of Terry, who just snorted and tore his eyes away from the girl to read the essay. Feeling very pleased with himself, both about distracting Terry and about the successful charm, Daniel spent the next few minutes idly transfiguring his quills and attempting Hot-Air charms in the Ravenclaws' direction without luck.

"That really is rude, you know," Terry said from behind him.

"Yeah, as if you could even feel it," Daniel said, rolling his eyes at him. "How'd I do?"

Terry shrugged and sat across from him, pushing the essay in front of Daniel. "You'll pass, easy, but you keep obsessing over this stirring theory you have, and that's not even part of the question."

"I just don't see why it insists you stir with silver, but doesn't bother to tell you what to cut with. If you cut with iron, there's no point stirring with silver, unless there's something more to it than they're telling us."

"It's probably just more advanced theory, that's all," Terry said. "Ask the prof if it's really bugging you. Now what the hell were you doing with those quills? I swear they were twitching."

"Yeah I was trying for a millipede-quill hybrid," Daniel told him. "If you got it just right, you could have them walking around, and you could track them by the ink. They never want to move, but."

Terry laughed out loud. "I have never met anyone like you for fixating on the irrelevant," he said, brown eyes friendly. "There's probably dozens of charms you could use to get that kind of effect."

"Transfiguration's harder to reverse," Daniel said mischievously.

"And you can't do charms for shit," Terry told him.

"That too," he admitted.

"I keep saying, Lisa's a natural with them, and she's a really good teacher, too," Terry said.

"I don't need a _tutor_," Daniel told him.

"Or a _girlfriend_," Terry said, lips quirked into a grin.

"It's pretty obvious that is _not_ going to happen," Daniel said, remembering yesterday's disastrous discussion.

"I promised her I'd try."

"You've gone above and beyond," Daniel assured him.

"What?"

"Above and beyond," Daniel repeated, his mind elsewhere. "Surely she's sick of the idea by now?"

"I know what you said, but what does it _mean_, Muggle boy?"

"Oh, above and beyond the call of duty," Daniel said.

"Right," Terry said before Daniel could explain further. "I just think you two would be good together."

"If we're just here to talk about girls," Daniel hurried on as he could see Terry start to think about Mandy, "I can get more done back in the lair. Thanks for reading this." He waved his essay vaguely, and got up. "See you later. I think Padma wants to talk to you."

He left the library feeling kind of better. The Ravenclaws were so straightforward, for all that they were supposedly cleverer than most. And despite Terry's teasing, he'd never met a Ravenclaw with genuine blood prejudice. They were snobs in their own way, but they judged people on brainpower rather than blood. Terry had the same kind of rueful acceptance of Daniel's weaknesses that Theo did. Mostly, his attitude rubbed off on his housemates, who treated Daniel pretty well as a rule.

He passed Granger as she entered the library, and she favoured him with a small apologetic smile. She was a lot like the Ravenclaws really. If she wasn't Potter's friend, Daniel might even have thought she was okay. She showed her Gryffindor "courage" by following Potter and Weasley around and complaining at them, and by acting more like a Ravenclaw than most Ravenclaws even did. He supposed it did take a twisted kind of courage to be such an outright nerd in the house of jocks.

As he headed back down to the dungeons, the idea of going to Snape leaked back into his mind. He slipped through the common room, avoiding the eyes of his housemates, and going straight down to his own dorm. It was empty, since it was only around eight thirty. Daniel took his shower, then sat on his bed, curtains closed around him, and thought hard about the conversation he hoped to have soon with Snape. Tomorrow, hopefully.

He wasn't sure what time it was when he heard Theo stomp in, closely followed by the others. "I hardly think _that _matters," Draco was saying haughtily. "Snape's not going to blame any of us with Potter in the room, and Longbottom. He wouldn't dare, even if he knew."

"You shouldn't do it," Theo said firmly. "We push him too hard, he might never go so far for us again."

"It'll all be worth it," Draco assured him. "You'll see."

"Plotting world domination _again_?" Daniel said, popping his head out of the curtains. "You do realise that Big Bad's kind of shown up the flaws in that plan?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Theo, did you hear that? You two girls can be little cowards together, won't that be nice?"

Daniel yawned. "Yesterday I was his boyfriend, make up your god damn mind," he said tolerantly. He ducked back behind his curtains, not in the mood to go through the motions of arguing with Draco right then. "Good night, lovelies." He lay back, his left hand gently grasping his necklace, falling asleep to the reassurances and advice of his parents.


	4. Cards on the Table

Theo woke Daniel up on his way out again. Very glad he had washed the previous evening, Daniel sat up slowly. "Thanks, man," he said. "I'll see you out there."

"Right," his friend said, and left quickly.

Daniel got changed quickly, and hefted his schoolbag over his shoulders. He arrived in the hall just as the food appeared, and slid in between Theo and Blaise with a smile, ignoring Blaise shifting obviously away from him. "Good morning, dear friends!" he said warmly. "Are we looking forward to a delightfully uneventful Potions class this afternoon?"

Draco glared at him from the other side of Blaise, but Theo's grin more than made up for it. Crabbe, on the other side of Draco, glowered to match his leader. Goyle was over with Pansy and Millicent, trying to impress them by turning their juice blue and their cutlery slightly transparent. It was impressive, for Goyle, but it only got him yelled at, and he left the table in a huff.

Through breakfast, Daniel risked only one glance at Snape, then considered Dumbledore for a moment. The words he listened to every night ran through his head. _Dumbledore will do right by the world, but Snape will do right by you_. Daniel imagined Dumbledore treating _him _the way he treated Potter, and inhaled egg bits.

"Chew _before _swallowing," Draco reminded him absently.

"Thank you," Daniel said, as politely as he could manage, after he sputtered back into calmness. "I'll catch y'all up."

"Where are you going?" Draco asked, looking suspicious.

"To tell Dumbledore about all your plotting, obviously," Daniel said, rolling his eyes and heading over to the Hufflepuff table. He fished around in his bag as he walked up to Finch-Fletchley, trying to get his hands on the comic he'd borrowed for the summer and had only just remembered to return. The Hufflepuffs nearest him as he approached went quiet, and watched him suspiciously for as long as it took for him to hand the book over to Finch-Fletchley and thank him. Finch-Fletchley grinned at him apologetically, but didn't say anything to defend him to his housemates. The guy was a dweeb, but he had some cool stuff.

"Having a Muggle meeting?" Draco sneered at him as he caught up to them in the corridor.

"All I need is a decent sniper rifle and access to the Astronomy Tower one Quidditch match, and you'll never live to scorn Muggles ever again," Daniel told him. He could see Draco itching to ask what a sniper rifle was, but eventually he firmed his lips and walked ahead without deigning to ask.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel only managed to force himself to walk with his housemates to his three-hour Charms marathon by constantly reminding himself that it would be four days until he had it again. Four long, glorious days of Charms-less and Defence-less bliss. Though from what he'd heard, Lupin was mainly teaching about dark creatures, with not so much spellwork to worry about. He was getting pretty popular, too, which bugged Daniel no end. Outside of Slytherin, you couldn't find a single person to say a bad word about the man.

Just because he called all the students by their first name, they thought he was their best mate. He called _Snape _by his first name as well, though, so it obviously wasn't a friendly thing. Just a controlling thing.

"What's on your mind?" Theo asked. "You're not looking happy."

Daniel stopped dead, and after a few steps so did Theo. "I am going to Charms," Daniel told him. "Then, I am going to stay back and take Charms again. With a bunch of second-years who'll be better at it than I am. I am _un_happy."

Theo nodded. "Point taken," he said, and they kept on walking.

Flitwick announced that they would be working in groups of three and four from now on. Daniel knew it was for Theo, and couldn't be mad. Unfortunately, because they'd sat down before being told this information, the natural group for them to form was with Blaise and Daphne. The last thing Daniel wanted to do was give Blaise an hour-long close-up look at his complete inability to do a single charm.

His rescue came from a completely unexpected quarter, when just after Flitwick told them to close their books, he was approached by Longbottom and Morris. He looked at Theo, uncertain. His friend's mouth twisted, but he just raised an eyebrow and stayed quiet.

"Want to come?" Daniel asked him. If he was going to spend two, maybe three hours a week with Longbottom and Morris, he might as well start getting along with them now. He saw Theo consider leaving Blaise and Daphne closest to the Muggleborn Finch-Fletchley with a wicked little smile, but in the end he shrugged and shook his head. So Daniel gathered up his things and followed his fellow dunces across to the other side of the classroom.

He wasn't all that happy to learn that neither of their problems were the same as the one he had. Morris found it impossible to get a grip on the theory, and had to be talked through everything all the time. Longbottom couldn't really get any power behind the spells he cast, but at least he could cast them. They were both nonplussed by Daniel's complete block. He felt more useful than he did with Theo, though, because he could explain things to Morris much more clearly than Longbottom was able to.

When Flitwick came around, he nodded at them approvingly and mostly left them to their own devices.

Then came the moment Daniel was dreading. The moment when everybody else packed up their things and left the classroom, leaving him with a wimpy Gryffindor and a dopey Hufflepuff for company.

"Come up to the front, please," Flitwick said once the door had closed behind the rest of their year. Three pieces of parchment were in front of him on his desk. "Miss Morris, you have an accurate notion of your own strengths and weaknesses - an excellent composition. Ten points to Hufflepuff. Mr Longbottom, you paint an unhappy picture of your talents, and I think your negative mindset is much more of a problem than any lack of magical aptitude. Mr Livingstone," — here Flitwick gave Daniel a measuring look — "I don't think your own analysis was made seriously, but it may still have hit on a gem of truth that I don't think you should dismiss too quickly."

Daniel couldn't hold back all of his sour laughter. "Great," he said. "That's wonderful news."

"You may use this time either to sit in on my scheduled class, or to conduct your own private study," Flitwick said. "As you may remember, in second year classes alternate between theory and practical, and both Monday and Wednesday are dedicated to theory. You are, of course, welcome to attend Tuesday's morning class, but I can understand that such a time is not ideal."

"We've got Divination," Longbottom said, and Morris nodded.

Flitwick nodded his understanding. "Take your seats, please, and we'll start the class."

The second-years came piling in, loud and unruly. The three third-years got a few odd looks, but they were mostly ignored. Daniel noticed the Weasley girl sitting next to Eric Vaisey, the Quidditch-mad boy Draco was always complaining about. Draco tended to conveniently forget that he had pressed pretty hard for Quidditch selection in his own second year. On Weasley's other side was Goldstein's sister, who Daniel knew was in Ravenclaw like her brother. Looking around, he realised he couldn't actually see house groups he recognised at all.

He didn't listen to most of the lesson, being too distracted by the strange social setup. At one point he even saw Travis Urquhart, whose family was second only to the Malfoys in pureblood prestige, talking pleasantly to the Creevey boy, who had been targeted by Slytherin's monster last year as a Muggleborn, and was in _Gryffindor_, for heaven's sake.

As soon as Flitwick dismissed them Daniel was out of there, unnerved by his glimpse into a completely different, dangerously appealing world.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Hey, Potter, worked out the difference between clockwise and counterclockwise yet?" Daniel heard Draco say as they arrived outside Potions. Without a word, Daniel and Theo slowed, and stopped before getting anywhere near the tense knot of students.

"Hey, Malfoy, worked out how to make daddy love you yet?" Weasley retorted, and Daniel had to admire the crude effectiveness of such a taunt. Draco recoiled, and started to radiate anger as he rarely did.

"Oh, Weasley, that's a bit much coming from you. It's pretty clear whatever _your _parents wanted they didn't find in you. They stopped pretty quickly soon as Little Miss Weasley popped out, didn't they?"

Weasley's face darkened; Daniel supposed he hadn't noticed how mild an attack that was for Draco.

"_Ron,_" Granger said, pulling in vain at his tense shoulder.

Daniel suspected everyone but Weasley was relieved when the door to Snape's classroom opened, inviting the class to enter. Theo led Daniel to a bench as far away from Draco as he could manage, and opened his textbook without a word. Snape was already bitching at Potter about something, and Daniel amused himself by watching Weasley turn red in silence as Theo went to collect the ingredients on the board. They had to rebrew a potion they had already covered, this year or previously, and they had to work it out using only the list of ingredients Snape had given them.

When Theo returned with the full tray, he started to mutter names of potions under his breath, scowling at the ingredients as none of them seemed to please him. Looking around the room, Daniel saw that Granger already knew and was talking excitedly to Longbottom about it. What she really should have been doing was petrifying him and sitting him in the corner where he couldn't mess it up for her.

"It's a physical effect potion," Daniel said, as Theo continued to mutter fruitlessly. "Look at what the ingredients do, don't try to remember the whole thing at once."

"Engorgement?" Theo asked him, face squinched up in doubt.

"I think it's hair raising."

"But there's nothing in there with strong enough regenerative properties," Theo said.

"Hair grows from dead stuff," Daniel told him. "So you actually want necrotic. Do you just Obliviate yourself after every exam, is that how this works? That's how you have enough room for the new year's information?"

"I think you're right, then," Theo said. "That explains the acid, anyway." He stopped, and stared at Daniel expectantly.

"What?"

"Are we going to start?"

"I don't remember how it goes," Daniel said. "I'd just be making it up as I went along."

"I sincerely hope not, Mr. Livingstone," Snape said from beside them. "I have prepared antidotes for mistakes made while brewing the potion, not for entirely new experiments."

"You know, with this setup I might be able to make — "

Daniel never got to finish needling Snape, as they were all distracted by a shout from Potter's bench. Snape whirled menacingly, and stalked across the room to them. Potter was milky-white, and Weasley looked constipated with stupidity. They were both standing, staring down at their workspace.

"What is going on here?" Snape asked, silky soft.

"N - nothing, sir," Potter managed, and sat back down. Weasley followed suit.

"Kindly do not interrupt my class for _nothing _in future," Snape said. He paused just long enough for them to think maybe he wasn't taking points, before smirking and continuing. "Twenty points from Gryffindor."

Daniel smiled happily, and followed Theo's tentative instructions, altering them slightly when they seemed too dumb, like when he suggested they desiccate the pomegranate _after_ they had soaked it in the solution. It was a full twenty minutes before the next outburst from Potter. Theo was just about to start stirring when Potter kicked his stool out behind him, where it crashed into Granger and Longbottom's bench, scattering their halved beans and sloshing their solution into Granger's tools and the rat tails laid out in front of them.

Theo and Daniel both knew better than to look at Draco at this point. Daniel knew exactly the look that would be on his face anyway, so he merrily took the ebony stirrer from his friend and started the tedious process, forcing himself to ignore the furore happening a few benches in front of them. He didn't need to see what was going on to take vast enjoyment from it.

The upshot of Potter's latest mishap was thirty more points from Gryffindor, and five to Slytherin when Draco offered to lend Longbottom a wooden leveller to replace the one that Potter had ruined.

"Gee, I hope nothing else goes wrong today," Theo muttered to Daniel as he took over stirring. "Potter looks like he's going to kill someone."

Daniel shrugged. "We're three benches away," he pointed out. "Someone will be able to take him out before he gets to us."

"That is … not the point."

"Come on, the potion's working perfectly," Daniel said. "That's because we're geniuses, and geniuses are self-absorbed to the point of implosion, so forget them."

"I have no idea how your brain works," Theo said helplessly.

"You're assuming it does," Millicent said, not looking up from her work on the next bench.

Theo looked at Daniel and laughed. "Can't take it quite so well as you dish it out, huh?" he said, looking up at Millicent appreciatively. "Ten points for Bulstrode."

Daniel nudged at his elbow, making him jump and almost splash their potion.

"Mr. Nott," Daniel said, doing his best Snape impression. "I suggest you pay more attention to your work, and less to wooing your housemates."

"Don't _do_ that," Theo said, more disturbed by the impression than he had been by the near-accident. "Or, if you must do it, do it to them." He jerked his head across at Brown and Patil the Gryffindor.

"Use my powers for good, not evil," Daniel agreed. "With you on that one. Maybe I should go as Snape to Hallowe'en this year."

"Don't do that," Theo said, eyes wide. "We'd never find your body."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

They very nearly scored full marks for their potion, and considering Gryffindor lost seventy-five points and Slytherin gained thirty in total, it was really a very successful lesson, all things considered. Before walking out, the Slytherins all met at Draco's bench, ready to retaliate against any stupid move Potter and his party might make.

"You've got it coming to you, Malfoy," from Potter and a death glare from Weasley was all that transpired. Once all the Gryffindors had left the room Blaise and Daphne went their own way, and Draco, seeing this, took Pansy's arm and strode off, head held high. Crabbe and Goyle, at somewhat of a loss, decided to flank Millicent out of the classroom instead of Draco.

"Go on, I'll catch up," Daniel told Theo, who looked at him curiously but left without comment.

"Sir?" Daniel said, turning to where Snape was collecting things from his desk to put away before the next class. "Can I talk to you about something later?"

"Be more specific, Livingstone," he said, "About what, and when?" He stopped what he was doing and regarded Daniel with his arms crossed across his chest.

"Later today?" Daniel said tentatively. "I mean, just when you have some time." He could barely hear himself as he added, "Quite a lot of time."

"Come to my office at nine o'clock tonight," Snape said. "Now get to your next class."

"Yes, sir," Daniel said, relieved and more than ready to return to the real world.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel hurried to catch up to his classmates, and when he did he saw that besides him and Theo, the only ones going from Potions to Arithmancy were Blaise and Daphne and Granger and Dean. He grinned to see Blaise and Daphne walking so far ahead of the two Muggleborn Gryffindors. He was less happy to see Theo with them, but he'd told Theo he'd catch up with him so he grinned widely at Dean as he jogged past him to join the Slytherins.

"Wassup," he said. Blaise started to walk even faster. Daphne rolled her eyes and followed him, so Daniel slowed with Theo to wait for Dean. And Granger, he supposed.

"I didn't expect you to be taking this," he said to Dean. "No Seamus?"

Dean shook his head. "He's already taking three others," he said, sounding slightly exasperated. "And he hates maths."

"I was surprised to see him taking Muggle Studies," Theo said conversationally. "He never really struck me as the type."

"You're hardly the type yourself," Daniel pointed out.

"Livingstone!" Dean said in false outrage. "You're not judging a student by his Sorting, are you?"

"You should have seen the second years in Charms," Daniel began, but then they turned the corner and just caught sight of Blaise and Daphne entering the classroom. Granger hurried forwards, exclaiming about being late, and they followed on her heels, if not quite so anxiously.

Vector was standing at the front of the classroom tapping her foot and glaring at them. They sat as quickly as they could, and Daniel was relieved to not be next to Granger this time, but in between Dean and Theo. Unfortunately, what followed was a mind-numbing hour of arithmetic and stupidly complicated equations that without exception came out completely wrong. By the end of the class, most of the class were staring blankly at Vector, brains completely shut down. The only exceptions were Blaise and Daphne, who were practically sitting on the same seat, feet busy beneath the table, and Granger, still scribbling madly. Finch-Fletchley and his friend Mark Douglas had lasted almost until the end, but gave out with a few minutes to go. When Vector dismissed the class, it took a few moments for anyone to wake up enough to realise that they should be leaving.

"Feel like joining me in Muggle Studies?" Theo asked as they left. "It's easy marks, just ask Granger."

"Granger's taking Muggle Studies?" Daniel asked. "I thought she was taking Divination, and Runes and Arithmancy. They said three was the most you should do."

"That's not going to stop _her_," Theo said. "She's top of the class for a reason. She can handle it."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

In the four hours between Arithmancy and his meeting with Snape, Daniel started a million things and finished none of them. He spent some time trying to make up for the complete lack of an Arithmancy lesson they'd just had, but the numbers all melted together in front of his eyes. He spent a few minutes trying to practise Charms, but that was fruitless as ever. He went down to dinner at six, but the more he ate, the more ill he felt. He did some reading to prepare for tomorrow's Herbology, but it kept reminding him of Potions, and of Snape, and so ignoring the surprised looks he got from Theo and Draco, he tumbled his things into his bag and went down to the dorm.

He grabbed a notepad and pen, sat on his bed with the curtains drawn and tried to think of what he should tell Rick and Penny. Because they still _were _his foster parents, whatever the paperwork might say. He knew they would have guessed he'd gone to Hogwarts, but they'd promised not to tell anyone else about his school, so who knew what everyone else thought. If they were in trouble because of him, there was nothing he could do that wouldn't ruin things forever. Maybe he should write to the new people, and explain to them that he didn't want to live with them, but that his foster parents hadn't had anything to do with it. They wouldn't be able to trace mail back to Hogwarts, so that should be safe enough. Some other kid could go live with them, and Daniel could stay at Hogwarts through all the holidays. Maybe he could stay with someone over summer. Not Theo, obviously, but maybe Dean or Seamus would keep him for a few weeks each, and then Terry for some more time. He'd float the idea anyway, say his parents were going on a trip or something.

He got as far as

_Dear Mr. and Mrs. Kepler, _  
_ I'm sorry if I made you worry, but I don't like it at_

before tearing the sheet off, crumpling it and tossing it into his top drawer. It was impossible. Why could no one understand that he just wanted to stay where he'd been? He was sure his parents wouldn't have minded how "permissive" his foster parents were, so long as he liked it there. With a sigh, he lay down on his bed and placed his hand over his necklace, figuring he could listen to their message maybe five times through before he had to go meet Snape.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He could still hear their voices faintly in the back of his head as he sat in Snape's office. _If Snape is still alive, you should go to him. If he is dead, or you can't contact him, Dumbledore is your next best bet. Dumbledore will do right by the world, but Snape will do right by you. It's his way. _

Snape had ordered him in as tersely as ever, directing him to the stiff wooden chair in front of his desk. Once Daniel had taken the seat, Snape had seated himself behind his desk, clasped his hands together and stared at him expectantly. _Snape will do right by you. _Daniel shifted to bring his right foot up under him, unable to raise his eyes. _It's his way. _Daniel drew his breath in long and hard.

"There's something I need to talk to you about," he said, starting promisingly strong but fading away to a mumble by the end of the sentence. He pulled his foot out and placed it back on the floor before Snape could snap at him to sit properly.

"I am aware of that, Livingstone," Snape said dryly. Something in his voice drew Daniel's eyes up to meet the narrowed black ones of his Head of House. "I have been informed of your difficulties by Professor Flitwick, and _Professor_ Lupin has also mentioned to me your outburst in his class on Monday, and your consequent absence yesterday."

_It's his way. _

"It's … very private," Daniel managed.

Snape didn't bother to hide his impatience when Daniel fell silent again. "You are here to talk to me, Livingstone," he said. "So talk."

"Not personally private," Daniel said quickly, pleased to have been given an order he needed to obey. "It's really important nobody else hears any of it. I mean it, truly."

"Nobody can spy on me in my own office," Snape said crisply. "It has withstood many tests, of vastly varying strengths."

Daniel figured he had about two more fact-free sentences before he had the man angry. But if he said what he needed to, directly, he couldn't gauge what Snape's reaction might be.

_Snape will do right by you._

"You are not leaving this room until you have been honest with me," Snape said.

Daniel hadn't realised how far across he had shifted on his seat, towards the door. "There's a prophecy everyone thinks is about Potter, but it could be about me, too," he said all in a rush as he moved to sit back in the middle. He forced himself to watch Snape's face.

"Livingstone," the man said, face as hard and cold as stone. "You are delirious."

"I'm not saying it _is _me," Daniel said, voice coming out as a whine despite all his efforts. "It's just I get messages from people who say they're my parents, and they tell me things, and it bothers me because there's no reason that it couldn't be true, and they said to tell you."

When he focused his eyes again, he saw Snape's wand out and directed right between his eyes.

"Don't move," he said, voice dark and dangerous. "Who told you to tell me? Who has put you up to this?"

"I don't know who they are," Daniel said. The direct threat helped him to clear his mind. "I'll take a potion, or let you spell me or something, to show you the truth."

"That will not be necessary," Snape said, lowering his wand slowly to the table. He met Daniel's eyes for a moment, then frowned and looked away. Daniel slid his shoulders around, trying to free the shiver that hovered at the base of his neck. When it refused to budge, he rubbed at his eyes instead.

"What are these messages you say you get?" Snape asked levelly.

"I knew I was a wizard before I got the letter," Daniel said, starting where it was safe, hoping Snape wouldn't think he was avoiding the question.

"Look me in the eyes," Snape said softly, so it was clear he wasn't trying to interrupt.

That was … less safe. _You should go to him. He'll do right by you._

Fixing his gaze on Snape's right eye, trying to stay free and open in his mind, willing Snape to see he was telling the truth, Daniel continued. "There's a necklace I've had forever, I just didn't realise until I was eight when I could actually see and feel it. First time I touched it, it told me I had magic and it was magic, and it told me to try things."

Daniel paused to field any questions Snape might have, but the man was silent. Biting his lip, Daniel continued. "Every birthday it seemed to get another message to give me, and then for all that year whenever I touched it it just gave me that same message. When I was nine they told me they were my parents and some more stuff about magic, and how to make sure not to use it in front of people. Ten was about Hogwarts, and how I had to keep them a secret there, even though I would be free to do magic. It told me a lot about this place, and was dead helpful telling me things to expect and to avoid. Eleven told me some stuff about Potter, and You-Know-Who, and the first war. Told me to stay away from Potter, because of how dangerous he was. Twelve was … " His throat closed up, and he tore his eyes away from Snape's.

"Go on," the man said before Daniel could settle into silence. "Look at me, Livingstone, and keep talking."

"Twelve was specific," he said, quickly, trying to pretend that the eye he was staring into wasn't attached to a person. "About them, and how they were going to die, and why I had to be sent away, and how much they wished I would be happy, but that some things were just more important. And said more about how much of a secret it was. Thirteen told me the whole prophecy, and about You-Know-Who, and about Potter and Longbottom, and you, and Dumbledore, and … everything."

It was meant to be a burden lifted. But Daniel felt worse after that speech than he had with the Dementors outside his compartment on the train. Snape was looking at him in a way that would not allow him to escape, and he could feel the questions in the air.

Then something shifted. "Go to bed," Snape said, in such a normal tone Daniel was cast adrift. "We will speak further of this tomorrow at four o'clock. Get as much sleep as you can."

Daniel forced his mouth closed and stood. "Don't tell Dumbledore," he said, heart sinking. "Please don't tell him."

Snape fixed him with a cold stare. "I will do as I think best," he said. "You are dismissed."

Daniel steadied himself, and looked up at his Head of House. "At least tell me if you're going to tell him," he demanded.

"I do not intend to inform the Headmaster at this time," Snape said. "I see no urgency in this affair."

It was better than nothing. "Okay," Daniel said. "Good night, sir."

"Yes," was all Snape said. Daniel didn't dare to look back at him, managing to relax a little only after he had closed the door behind him.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The soft clunk of his door left Snape locked in with his memories, dragged to the surface once more, but not by the usual suspect. For all that Livingstone believed his own story, Snape simply could not allow its implications to be proved correct. To be protecting Potter and still mourning after all these years, for a _lie_, would …

No. Livingstone had been troubled for most of his life, and more so than usual recently, and he had as much reason to dislike Potter as any child in the school. The Dark Lord had marked Potter, as the prophecy had foretold. The mystery of Livingstone's parentage was not a vast conspiracy to protect the Chosen One, no matter how much the boy might need it to be. Tomorrow night Snape would go over the story in as much detail as was necessary to satisfy himself that it led to nothing, then he would be able to handle the boy's real problems, whatever they turned out to be.

Rubbing a hand across his temple, he pulled out the next day's lesson plans and carried the list of required antidotes to his storeroom. What intrigued him, more than he let the tiny possibility he had killed Lily for no reason, was the feel of Livingstone's mind as it had brushed against his. Snape had no illusions about the strength of his Legilimency as compared to his Occlumency, but it wasn't right that Livingstone had _allowed _him to see his mind, like he could have defended it had he chosen to. The boy was thirteen. He was by no means an idiot, but that mind had edges of sophistication that could only be attained through specific mental training. Training he was certain the child had not received while at school.

He directed the vials of antidote into the classroom, locking them in the cabinet, and only just began to wonder if he had perhaps let Livingstone go prematurely. He told himself that at least this way he would be able to think of the right questions to ask before time, but he could tell that he would be distracted until they could speak again. His classes always had the potential for catastrophe; the ability of children to find trouble was a phenomenon he had never been able to explain. He had two Gryffindor-Slytherin classes to get through tomorrow before he would meet with Livingstone.

He could almost see the rubies flying up the hourglass already. That thought, if nothing else that had happened that evening, brought a slight curve to his lips.


	5. Voices from the Past

This time it wasn't Divination that everyone was talking about through Transfiguration, it was Care of Magical Creatures. Draco had apparently made an idiot of himself trying to match Potter in some stupid stunt, and had been mauled by a hippogriff. As usual, there were two main opinions on the event. There was the Gryffindor one, where Draco was an idiot, Potter was a champion and hippogriffs were awesome. Then there was the Slytherin opinion, in which Hagrid was a terrible teacher, hippogriffs were way too dangerous for a third-year class, and Draco had just been the unlucky one to make a mistake.

Daniel knew Draco _was _an idiot, at least where Potter was concerned. From what Pansy said, though, Hagrid had been way too relaxed about the dangers of the creatures, and hadn't even checked to make sure everyone knew what to do if one cut loose. Even the book he'd assigned their class was bordering on psychotic.

What the hell was it with Gryffindor teachers and endangering students? And nobody _caring_? Pansy had obviously been crying, and Crabbe and Goyle were looking genuinely menacing for once. Daniel never knew what Millicent was thinking, but she was looking more grim than usual, her eyes flicking back and forth between Potter and McGonagall. Blaise and Daphne hadn't taken the class, but once they had heard the news they went very quiet and then kept exchanging meaningful glances.

The Gryffindors kept glaring over at the Slytherins, for some mysterious reason, like it was somehow Pansy's or Crabbe's fault that Hagrid couldn't control his own class.

Eventually McGonagall got tired of all the gossip, and told them sharply that if they would rather sit around and natter pointlessly, she'd run a replacement class first thing Sunday morning. That shut them up, so Daniel could finally concentrate on his quill experiment while McGonagall went through the reading.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Herbology was boring as usual, but it was a chance to hear about the hippogriff incident from a relatively impartial viewer.

"Malfoy didn't listen to Hagrid at all," Lisa told him as they smeared the insect-repelling goop Sprout had given them all over their gloves. "He said never to insult a hippogriff, but Malfoy wasn't paying attention. So of course once he was right next to it, patting its beak, he comes out and calls it ugly, and next thing we know he's bleeding all over the ground, screaming that he's been killed."

Daniel couldn't help but snort. Draco was such a drama queen.

"It was scary," Lisa said. "But if he'd just _listened_…"

"Oh yeah, because everyone else is always listening in class," Daniel said, rolling his eyes. "If hippogriffs can kill people, Hagrid should have made sure."

"Of course he should!" Lisa said, delicately picking a dittany flower and placing it on the bench. "I don't know what you want me to say. It was just a stupid accident, and they both could have done better and prevented it, okay?"

"Sorry," Daniel said. "It's just that classes seem a lot less safe this year."

"Yeah, that Runes speech of Babbling's was _scary_," Lisa said, voice hushed.

Daniel desperately wanted to ask her about the Boggart, but clenched his jaw shut and forced himself to keep quiet.

About halfway through the lesson, Daniel was shocked to see Blaise approach them. Blaise looked equally surprised at his own actions, but Daniel could see Daphne behind him watching carefully.

"A word, Livingstone," he said. Daniel looked up to check that Sprout was busy, and wandered over to where the rest of the Slytherins were working.

"Are you in on getting Hagrid sacked?" Pansy asked belligerently. "It could have been you that got savaged."

"It really couldn't," Daniel said, annoyed that she thought she had to convince him. "I'm not as careless with my life as our dear friend Draco."

Crabbe and Goyle stood to their full height, and Pansy was about to start to shriek at him, he could tell.

"I'll help," he said. "Of course I'll help. Why wouldn't I?"

"You're friends with Thomas and Finnigan," Millicent said softly.

"Hagrid's not fit to be a teacher," Daniel countered. "Even if it was Blaise … even if it was _Potter_, I'd be doing something about it. Not for revenge, mind you, but I'd want him out."

"Good," Blaise said approvingly. "Now go back to your Mudblood girl and we'll talk about this later."

Daniel's chest tightened. Why could Blaise never talk without saying something ugly like that?

"I'll go when I'm ready," he replied. "Shame your mind isn't as pure as your blood."

Blaise just looked at him, face clear and angelic, and waited for him to leave.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He knocked on Snape's door at exactly four o'clock, having walked out of History after only half an hour to give himself some time to settle his mind for this meeting. He put his hands in his pockets and forced his shoulders back. The door swung open, but Snape wasn't standing at it. He was sitting behind his desk, writing something in his spiky, cramped scrawl.

He looked up only briefly when Daniel stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, waving for him to take a seat.

Daniel didn't have many one-on-one meetings with his head of house. His favourite way of dealing with teachers was to pretend they didn't exist at all outside of class and mealtime.

So to have _asked for _a meeting with Snape, and to be sitting in front of him now and have to ask him for help, it — well, it really set his teeth on edge.

It brought back that time back in first year, the morning after the Sorting, when they'd all been summoned, one by one, to meet personally with their new Head of House. All he'd known about Snape then was that he was demanding, pitiless and, most importantly, _on his side._ Draco had blathered on about how the potions professor was a "friend of the family", Blaise had spoken knowingly about his mastery of potions, and Millicent had mentioned his interest in the Dark Arts, but Daniel still hadn't known who the man _was_.

He didn't have a much better idea now, really. He watched as Snape set down his quill and steepled his fingers together, shifting his intent black gaze to Daniel's face.

"I would like to see this necklace," he said.

"I can't take it off," Daniel told him, holding his hands carefully in his lap. "And no one else has ever been able to see it."

"Yet you say it told you to come to me," Snape said, standing and walking around his desk. He ended up right in front of Daniel, who couldn't help but shrink back a little. "Take it into your hand."

Daniel gathered up the familiar links, pulling the necklace out from under his shirt and gently fingering the pale twisted ring that hung at the front. _Hello, again,_ he heard deep in his mind. _Happy birthday! _He let the ring sit on his palm and held it out as far as the chain would allow. _It seems only a few minutes since you were twelve… _

Snape reached out, apparently having no trouble locating the ring. Before he realised what he was doing, Daniel had closed his fist and had drawn it back to clench tightly at the hollow of his neck. "Don't … " he said weakly. _We hope your year has passed happily, and you have been doing well in school. Not like we're ever going to know if you're not…_

"Show me," Snape commanded, and waited. _We hope you didn't find last year's message too troubling. Nothing short of absolute honesty is possible here though, so sadly there is more news we have to pass on to you._

Daniel shook himself, opened his palm and held it out to Snape again. _There is far more to the story of Harry Potter than you could know. We're sure you have wondered how it is we know so much detail about an event that hasn't occurred yet. Unless someone has somehow —_

As soon as Snape's finger came into contact with the ring, it cut off, and Daniel winced at the emptiness it left him with.

_Severus! _he heard, and jumped. _You can't know how glad we are to know you're still around. Even though maybe you're not and no-one's ever going to hear this … _Daniel smiled, caught up in these whole new sentences coming from his parents. With every word they said, they became just that bit more familiar, more real. _Anyway, the only way you'll be getting this message is if __our son__ is dead, or he has decided to trust you. You can imagine which option we would prefer to be true. If, however, he is dead, there are things you need to be told without delay. To the best of our knowledge, Harry Potter is a decoy left by the Dark Lord to draw the focus of __Dumbledore and the Ministry __while he furthers his own agenda. The agenda is unknown, but he has no faith in the prophecy you gave him. He simply uses it, like he uses __us all__. We don't know if you believe in this prophecy, but you must know that if it is true, it could have applied to not just the Potter and Longbottom boys, but also to our own son. By no stretch of the imagination could the Dark Lord be imagined to have marked Longbottom in any way, so if __our son__ is dead it leaves Potter as the only one able to fulfil the thing. If __our son__ is with you, tell him hello, but also know that with a fairly liberal interpretation, he could be said to have been marked as an equal by the Dark Lord. You were there, you'll remember._

There was a brief pause, but Daniel wasn't thinking about anything, except that this surprise new message had him eager for more.

_Let's assume our boy's alive, for our own peace of mind if nothing else. _Daniel lingered over the words "our boy", only thinking to tune in again after the pleasure of hearing himself referred to, to someone else, as theirs, had faded. _… all the help he can get, without Dumbledore having to know about it. He trusts too many, and __our child __is best served by anonymity above all. The Dark Lord will have his ways of keeping tabs on the Potter boy, and could without too much effort extend that awareness to our son. After all we have done for you, there is only one thing we ask you to do for us. Keep him safe. We don't care what he's like, or what he thinks of you. Just teach him what he needs to know, and if he decides he wants to take the prophecy to heart, help him in that as far as you can. You have your own reasons to want the Dark Lord deposed, though in our time you don't know it yet. Our condolences to you. Channel all the anger and the betrayal, and the self-loathing if necessary, and our son will need no one else by his side. Thank you, and good luck._

Someone was holding his hand. That was extraordinarily unusual, but Daniel accepted it. It matched the feeling he always got hearing his parents, a feeling much stronger this time, when it had come as a complete surprise.

A man sighed from beside him, and he reluctantly opened his eyes. He saw Snape, and that the two of them were holding the ring between their clasped hands. Snape's face was pale and drawn, his black eyes lifeless. The hand-holding thing didn't appeal to Daniel quite as much any more, but he didn't want to do anything to attract the man's attention. So he let himself dwell on "our boy" and "tell him hello".

Slowly, he realised that they hadn't intended for him to hear any of that. That was why it had warmed him too much to hear of their affection for him. It was proof. He hadn't been meant to hear any of that about Snape wanting the Dark Lord dead, or being there when he had apparently been marked by the Dark Lord as an equal, like in the prophecy. Or that Snape had been the one to give the prophecy to the Dark Lord in the first place. Those things didn't matter, not next to things like "our boy".

"They say hello," said Snape sounding almost dumbfounded, drawing Daniel out of his thoughts and back into the real world.

"I know," he replied, feeling himself smile at the thought.

"You heard," the man said, still not sounding all there.

"Guess they didn't plan it as good as they thought," Daniel said artfully.

"As _well_," Snape corrected him with a frown, drawing his hand away. Daniel hid his smirk, seeing the automatic correction bring Snape back to his senses.

Snape eyed him suspiciously, but Daniel put on his angel face. "Now do you believe me?" he asked innocently.

"What they say is possible," Snape said. "But there is also the possibility that they were being used, intentionally or otherwise."

Daniel tucked the necklace and its ring back underneath his shirt. "Telling their own son he's part of a prophecy to help destroy the Dark Lord is going to aid the rise of evil how?"

"Less focus on Potter," Snape said.

"No," Daniel said firmly. "They were so insistent that I should only tell you, and even then just if I … needed help. _You're_ not important enough to have this thing all set up just to distract you from Potter. Say they're wrong, if you want, but don't you dare tell me they're lying to me. They're not _stupid._" Daniel was sure something in what he'd said made little sense, but glared at Snape instead of thinking about it.

"There are many ways to convince a person of things they know aren't true," Snape said grimly. "Your father never had much defence against that sort of attack."

It hadn't hit Daniel until then that Snape must have known his parents. Known them properly, as real people. He'd just said "your father" offhand, like... He reached up and touched his necklace through his shirt, trying to keep the world from falling away.

A heavy hand was on his shoulder, then, and he couldn't help but shy away from it a little. All this thinking about parents and prophecies had made him kind of homesick, and he didn't want _Snape _to be dealing with any of that.

Snape drew his hand away, and stepped back. "Why have you come to me with this?" he asked, and Daniel fancied he could hear a bit of defensiveness in the question.

Daniel thought about that for a moment, then tried to think of an answer to the question. "They said to," he said eventually. "If I didn't know what to do on my own."

"About what, precisely?"

Daniel stared. "About everything," he said. "I mean, that's some pretty heavy shi— uh, news they're dropping on me here."

"Indeed," Snape said. He went around and sat back behind his desk. "I am flattered by your trust," he said. Daniel heard shades of disbelief in that statement.

Daniel shrugged.

"So, this is what has been bothering you this year?" Snape asked, leaning forward intently. "This and nothing else?"

Daniel barely held back his gape. "Not _enough_ for you?"

"Livingstone," Snape growled.

"I'm _kidding_," Daniel said quickly, and huddled back into his seat.

"One would think, given your history, that you would attempt to provoke authority figures rather less than you do," Snape said mildly.

"Don't do that," Daniel said indignantly.

"Do what?" Snape asked, raising his eyebrows.

"Don't … " Daniel searched for the right word, "_probe_."

"Who has been teaching you Occlumency?" Snape asked with painfully sudden intensity, leaving Daniel completely at sea.

"I don't know what that is," he admitted.

"Blocking your mind," Snape said. "Last night when you allowed me to look into your mind, I could feel you letting me through its structures."

Weariness hit Daniel all in a rush, but he forced himself to think back. "I don't — I just wanted you to see that I was telling the truth."

"Somebody has trained you," Snape said darkly. "Don't think for a second you can convince me otherwise."

"But nobody has," Daniel said, voice quiet.

"Look at me," Snape said, fixing his deep black eyes on Daniel's face.

It didn't feel right any more. Snape didn't _own _him, just because he'd gone to him for help. Daniel looked down at his knees.

"I don't see how I can possibly help you if you cannot even be honest with me about this one thing," Snape said, his voice edged with exasperation.

"I don't see why you should help me if you don't believe me when I tell you I have never learned to block my mind from anything!" Daniel retorted. "It would be a stupid thing to lie about anyway. What would be the point?"

"Do not ask me to explain to you the minds of adolescent boys," Snape said. "You wouldn't like to hear what I have to say on that subject."

Daniel had nothing to say, so he curled himself up in the chair, keeping his eyes unfocused and away from Snape.

"If you cannot stay awake, by all means return to your dormitory," Snape said pleasantly. "It is not yet five o'clock, but I hear your bedtime is getting earlier by the day."

Daniel risked a look up at him, wondering if he was going to get told off for ditching Defence. He wasn't sure if Snape knew he was meant to be at History at this very moment, either. He let his head fall back against the chair, trying to think of all the things he might have to justify to Snape before he was allowed to leave.

"Allow me to see for myself your lack of training, and I might even apologise to you again."

Daniel was not in the mood to be teased, least of all by _Snape_.

"Livingstone!" Snape's voice lashed at him, and he sat up despite himself. "Kindly do not fall asleep in my office." Daniel wasn't sure if that was a touch of humour he heard, or real displeasure.

To be safe, he sat up as straight as he could, and tried to look attentive.

"Will you allow me to look into your mind again?" Snape asked.

Daniel thought for a moment. It might be a relief for the man to know about his summer without him having to actually talk about it. And then he would know that it wasn't lack of effort causing Daniel to fail Charms. "Yeah," he said. "Whatever."

That was enough for Snape. Their eyes locked, and Daniel was suddenly falling so fast he nearly blacked out. His brain was spinning in his skull, through memories and emotions and plans and multiplication tables and —

It all stopped suddenly, and Daniel found himself staring into Snape's eyes again. He heard his own voice, even though he knew his mouth wasn't moving.

"…sure not to use it in front of people. Ten was about Hogwarts, and how I had to keep them a secret there, even though I would be free to do magic. It told me a lot about this place, and was dead helpful telling me things to expect and to…"

Something was worming its way through his brain, pinching and scraping, trying to get in somewhere Daniel knew it shouldn't.

"…how much of a secret it was. Thirteen told me the whole prophecy, and about You-Know-Who, and about Potter and Longbottom, and you…"

He felt like he'd just stood up way too fast, without having eaten for a day. As his vision gradually cleared, he found himself staring at Snape still, but the room was silent.

"Were you trying to hold anything back from me?" Snape asked suspiciously.

"No, sir," Daniel said quickly. "I couldn't do anything, I didn't know what was going on."

One of Snape's eyebrows twitched. That meant he thought something was funny, but Daniel had no idea where he could possibly have found any humour in what had just happened. "So it appeared to me," Snape said. "There are now two things we need to speak about."

Daniel gulped.

"First, I would like to commend you on your behaviour in your Defence lesson," Snape said evenly.

Daniel just stared.

"You acted to defend yourself quickly and appropriately," Snape said blandly. "It is more important to learn to defend oneself against the untrustworthy who seek to win our trust than it is to perfect Riddikulusin a classroom. Twenty points to Slytherin."

Daniel grinned.

"However," Snape said, "The advantage you have won will be lost if you do not attend further lessons. The— "

"I didn't _mean — _"

Snape glowered at his interruption. "_Therefore_," he said, "If _Professor_ Lupin finds it appropriate to give you a punishment, there will be no complaints. You will apologise — "

"Only if he brings it up, right?"

"Detention," Snape growled. "Nine o'clock next Thursday, you will aid me in preparing for my first class. This will occur every Thursday until you have learned not to interrupt me."

Well, the man wasn't getting a detention _and _an apology. Daniel sulked in silence.

After a while, he started to envy the Gryffindors. They thought Snape had no patience. They thought he was short-tempered, and they lived in fear of his explosive anger.

Slytherins knew better.

"Sorry," Daniel muttered, still not meeting the man's eyes. "What's the second thing?"

"How often do you listen to these messages?" Snape asked, dark eyes boring into Daniel where he sat.

Daniel barely could hide his relief. That was easy. "Every night, usually. Sometimes if I'm upset or something I'll listen some more."

Snape's face was hard again, and deadly serious. "Do you listen more now than you have in the past? This year, for example?"

Maybe this wasn't such an easy topic. "I guess," he said awkwardly.

"Why?"

Daniel shrugged, unwilling to go down that road.

"Speak," Snape instructed him.

He sought desperately for something convincing. "Well, now it's a lot more important," he said.

"So when you are upset, you find it comforting to hear yourself named as fated to kill the Dark Lord, more so than when the message simply informed you you were a wizard," Snape said dubiously.

Daniel just _knew_ Snape was getting at something else, but he didn't feel up to the mind games right then. "What are you _saying_?" he asked, overplaying his exhaustion and hoping it would excuse the rudeness.

"It is unnecessary to listen further, once you have understood the message," Snape said. "Is it not?"

"I guess it's not _necessary_," Daniel said, ready to be furious at Snape if he told him to stop.

"Therefore listening every night is especially gratuitous."

"It helps me sleep," Daniel muttered defensively.

Snape sat there, mouth tight, contemplating in silence.

Daniel had always thought Snape kind of liked him, and he hoped desperately that the man wasn't adjusting his opinion, thinking Daniel weak for being dependent on voices a decade dead. "I don't have to listen every night," he said suddenly. "I just got into the habit, you know? I can listen less, it's no big deal."

Snape nodded. "That would be advisable."

"Okay." Daniel was more than ready to leave. He looked at Snape, who nodded. He got up, relieved.

"There is no point in returning to your History class," the man said as Daniel opened the door. "Perhaps you could use the time to catch up on your missed Defence."

"Okay," Daniel said, slipping out before Snape could give him any more _advice_.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

There was something seriously wrong in Livingstone's mind. He had been telling the truth about not learning Occlumency, but that didn't mean that _someone_ hadn't erected infrangible barriers around a collection of his memories. And unless Snape was very much mistaken, and he doubted he was, it didn't end there. Strange shapes bled off from the shield, causing faint patterns to run through the boy's thoughts. He hadn't dared to delve any deeper into the obstructions with neither of them prepared for such an undertaking, but his findings disturbed him deeply.

His first urge was to go to Dumbledore, of course. The Headmaster was a much more proficient Legilimens, and may have encountered something similar during his absurdly long life. But any such thought was countered by the reminder of just how much he owed the Seavers. He had never thought he would have the chance to repay them, and now it was here he couldn't disregard the one thing they had asked him to do.

The trust Livingstone had shown in him was an unexpected factor. For all that his Slytherins respected him, and were on his side for the most part, Snape could count on one hand how many there were who _trusted _him. They were Slytherins, after all. Livingstone, on the other hand, had more friends outside of his house than he did inside it. He wasn't at all like his parents, really. Unlike certain _other _third-years he knew.

He sighed. He had N.E.W.T. potions in an hour. It would be best for him to put off his reminiscing until the weekend, when he could possibly do some research into the last days of the Seavers, and convince Livingstone to let him have a closer look at his necklace, test its limits. Tomorrow he would have to be at his very best, taking both his first-year classes. Maybe there would even be a child in one of them who was halfway competent, who could give him some vague hope for the future.

Snape snorted, knowing how likely _that _was. He swept from his office towards the Great Hall, hoping to encounter some young students, ideally Hufflepuffs or Gryffindors, to terrorise on his way to dinner.


	6. Things in Motion

Nobody bothered to get any sleep, not when they had Astronomy at midnight and had arranged to meet up to discuss the Hagrid battle plan just beforehand.

Daniel spent the first couple of hours lying on his bed with his curtains closed writing out his Transfiguration homework. Once that was done he just lay there for a while, thinking idly about his meeting with Snape, and wondering how much it was safe for him to know about his parents. Snape clearly had been pretty familiar with them.

He opened his curtains quickly when he realised how close he was to zoning out and waiting with his necklace for the hour remaining until half past eleven. He looked around for a distraction. Crabbe and Goyle had their heads bent over something he couldn't see. Draco's curtains were drawn around his bed, but Daniel could hear him muttering what sounded like a letter home. Blaise was similarly concealed, but no sound whatsoever came through the curtains.

Theo was lying face-down on his own open bed reading his Muggle Studies textbook. Daniel went over and snatched it up, curious to know exactly what wizards thought was most important to learn about the rest of the world.

"Hey, give," Theo protested. "I want to finish that today."

"I can read it out to you," Daniel offered, sitting on the bed beside him, "and contribute my own unique insights into the primitive world of the Muggles."

"It's not like that," Theo said. "Burbage is really good; she's thrilled to have Hermione in the class. Burbage isn't Muggleborn herself, see, and Hermione's got all the latest information, and stuff that you couldn't ever learn from books."

"Could you not talk about _that_ in here?" Draco asked, sounding faintly ill. "I _sleep _here."

Theo pulled a face, his back safely to Crabbe and Goyle. "It's funny, the difference between the people taking it because of actual curiosity, and the ones who just have Muggleborn friends," he continued like they hadn't been interrupted. "I mean, it's perfectly obvious Seamus is only there because of Dean, and I think Bones is trying to impress Finch-Fletchley. But McMillan's intrigued already, and Patil - Padma, that is - keeps asking about wizard-Muggle relations, and careers."

"What's your reason?" Daniel asked, dropping the book back in front of Theo.

"You got me curious," he answered simply. "It's not something I ever would have done if you weren't here, but I'm really glad I am."

Sounds of faint retching came from behind Draco's curtains.

"Oh yes, I love Muggles," Daniel announced loudly. "I think they should assimilate wizarding and Muggle education, that way - "

"Shut _up_, you two," Goyle growled. "We're working."

Daniel looked at him suspiciously, wondering as always if he was just helping Draco out, or if he actually had a mind of his own. Goyle hadn't even looked up, but Crabbe did lift his head to meet Daniel's gaze, brown eyes unfriendly.

"Sorry," Theo said, just shrugging when Daniel looked at him, disappointed. When he went back to his reading, Daniel sighed long and deep and went to look over the Arithmancy again. Maybe it was the kind of thing you had to read ten times before it would all make perfect sense.

Eleven thirty came near, and first Draco's curtains opened, then Blaise's.

"I suggested we just meet here," Blaise said. "Complete privacy, and not breaking any rules."

"Up here?" Draco said, grey eyes wary. "The girls too? I thought there were wards."

Blaise snorted. "We're not allowed in the girls' dorm," he said. "But the virtuous maidens can go wherever they like."

"Huh," Draco said, sounding extremely unimpressed. "I wish I'd - how do _you _know that?"

Blaise smiled a small, smug smile. "What do you think I'm doing while you're all at Runes?"

Heat rose in Draco's face. "In _here_?" he asked faintly. Daniel knew something of what he felt. Their dorm was their _home_, just the six of them. However much they were fighting, and whatever power plays were happening in Slytherin as a whole, the dorm was Switzerland. Sacrosanct, almost.

"You should have told us," he heard himself say.

Blaise looked quickly from Draco to Daniel. "Why should I do that?" he asked. "This place is as much mine as it is yours."

"No, it's _ours_," Daniel told him. "Not yours and Daphne's funhouse."

"You don't do _everything_, do you?" Draco asked loudly enough to still the whole room.

Blaise sat up straighter. "That's between me and Daphne," he said coldly. "And just because _your _mind goes straight to such a thing doesn't mean I treat my own girlfriend with that much disrespect. If it weren't obvious you were speaking out of jealousy, I'd have you on your knees apologising to me, and then to her."

"Jealousy!" Draco said in disbelief. "I'm just looking out for her. Just because she goes out with you doesn't mean other people can't look out for her_._"

"You don't want us to be doing anything, because you know you're too afraid to keep up," Blaise said, the venom in his voice growing. "How many times have you actually kissed a girl, Draco? Don't take out your own inadequacy on me. _I _know what _I'm _doing. And so does Daphne, however much you might imply I'm taking advantage of her. She's not weak, like _some people._"

Draco fumbled with his left hand for his wand. Blaise just stared at him. Daniel felt like slapping the both of them. "A fellow Slytherin? In our dorm? Go on then, Malfoy, show us what you're made of."

Crabbe and Goyle were behind Draco then, hands on their own wands. Daniel could see Draco's hand shaking slightly, and his grip was clumsy. His grey eyes had gone dark, but Blaise stared at him, unconcerned. Then he looked to Crabbe, and to Goyle. "Nice lackeys," he told Draco. "Very emasculating."

The door opened, and the girls came in, eyes widening when they saw the tableau. Daphne went to stand in front of Draco, while Millicent rolled her eyes and grabbed Pansy's sleeve to stop her from intervening. Draco stared at Daphne like he'd never seen her before, then lowered his wand and walked out without a glance at anyone. Goyle went to follow him, but Crabbe grabbed his shoulder and shook his head. They went back to sit on their beds, and with that Daphne joined Blaise on his. Millicent and Pansy took Draco's vacant four-poster, and an awkward silence filled the room.

Daniel was still feeling resentful, but there was no point starting a fight with Blaise when they had important things to do. So he forced himself to stay quiet, and waited for someone else to say something.

"I don't think we'll have to do very much," Millicent said. "No one in their right mind thinks Hagrid is actually competent."

"It's Dumbledore we have to get around," Daphne said, leaning back against Blaise's chest. "Draco's father will agitate the board, but when it comes to teachers Dumbledore gets final say unless there's an actual crime or something."

"We could work on Hagrid instead," Blaise said thoughtfully. "You say he went to pieces after Draco was attacked?"

Pansy, Millicent, Crabbe and Goyle nodded.

"Okay," Blaise said. "Someone will have to tell Draco not to play it up too much. He doesn't need to perform for the students, we all know he's full of shit and it will only work against us."

"But Hagrid's soft," Crabbe said, smiling ominously with a sidelong look at Goyle. "Draco can play him, don't worry about that."

"I'll tell him," Pansy said, obviously itching for a reason to go after Draco.

"Wait," Millicent commanded. "We have Care of Magical Creatures again tomorrow after History, right? We need to make sure we're all on the same page."

"Just be extraordinarily considerate," Blaise said. "That'll be easy for most of you, but Millicent, you'll have to make a real effort."

She sighed. "I'll be his protective mother bear, don't you worry."

"You might be able to get to him more by acting afraid," Daniel said. "Like Crabbe said, he's soft. He can probably deal with hatred better than he can with fear. Be protective of Draco, but also afraid for yourself. It'll cut him down."

"Get anyone you can in his classes to take notes about his teaching," Theo said. "If we can combine actual proof of incompetence with working on his guilt, even Dumbledore'll be hard pressed to keep him on."

"He was a good groundskeeper," Goyle said, apropos of nothing.

"Whatever," Blaise said dismissively.

"You'll have to be nice to him too, Blaise," Daphne said, craning her head to look him in the eye. "If you and Millicent can carry it off, it'll go a long way to convincing people."

Blaise scowled at her. "I will," he said. "But you haven't heard what he was saying, yet."

Daphne turned back around. "He's all talk," she said. "You know that."

"Are we set?" Millicent asked. "Everyone knows what to do?"

"Are we keeping it in Slytherin?" Daniel asked. "I could ask around, see how many other people really want a proper Care of Magical Creatures class, ask them to keep records of stuff he does wrong."

"No," Blaise said. "It's more important that no one realises we're acting."

"What do you think?" Daniel asked Daphne pointedly.

She tilted her head and considered him for a moment. "I think you could get away with just asking your friends. They might not associate you with us; they tend not to. Then if they spread it, all the better for us."

"Not Gryffindors," Blaise said. To Daniel's surprise, he didn't seem at all bothered that Daphne had outright disagreed with him. "Potter heads up the Hagrid Fan Club, and it's not worth the risk."

Daphne nodded.

"Astronomy, then?" Theo said.

Millicent stood. "Meet you in the common room," she said, and led Pansy out of the room. Daphne paused only to kiss Blaise on the cheek, then followed them.

"Hey Blaise," Theo said.

Blaise look at him guardedly.

"Just because we didn't all pull our wands on you doesn't mean we're all fine with it," he said, swinging his cloak around his shoulders. "You can't just invite other people in here without asking us."

Blaise looked around at all of them. Except Daniel, of course. Crabbe and Goyle were glaring at him, and Theo's face was set. "Fine," he said. "I didn't think you'd mind Daphne, that's all. She's one of us. And it's not like we go snooping around. We have better things to do with our time."

"Find somewhere else," Goyle said, and led Crabbe out of the room. Blaise followed them quickly, leaving Daniel and Theo to bring up the rear.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Fridays were the easiest days ever, Daniel thought as they knocked off Ancient Runes at three in the afternoon. Transfiguration was easy, History was irrelevant, Arithmancy only lasted an hour, and Runes was _fun. _He was feeling pretty good about staying distant from the necklace last night as well. He'd fallen asleep fine after Astronomy without it, and was planning to keep it quiet all weekend if he could.

The Sack Hagrid campaign was going surprisingly well, too. Draco was resisting his usual tendency to overplay everything, and was giving a delightfully muted performance. Crabbe and Goyle were walking in front of him instead of behind him, Millicent was giving him concerned glances from time to time, and even Blaise was acting vaguely protective. Daphne was telling people that Draco had been "shaken up pretty badly, but was getting over it", and even a few of the sixth- and seventh-years had come over to clap him on the shoulder. The only weak link was Pansy, who was undermining Draco's willingness to play a weak part by absolutely doting on him. A couple of times in Transfiguration Millicent had to pull her away and talk to her in a low voice.

Draco had skipped History, probably to give him a break from everybody's attention. Daniel saw him next in Runes, and was deadly curious about how their Care of Magical Creatures class had gone. Millicent tipped him a wink, and Draco smiled at him rather more triumphantly than was necessary to thank him for copying down the work from the board for him.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

At about six thirty, just as he was leaving the Great Hall after dinner with Theo, an older girl he didn't recognise came and slipped him a piece of parchment. "From Professor Snape," she said, and headed off to the Ravenclaw table.

The note invited him to do some more research at eight o'clock that night, which left him with an awkward hour or so of time to fill in. "I have to see Snape later," he told Theo. "Want to go catch the sunset?"

"Sure," Theo said.

Once they were out on the grounds they checked the grass for damp, and when they found it, Theo dried it with a wave of his wand before they sat down.

"Could I go to your place for the holidays?" Theo asked, rubbing his nose and avoiding Daniel's eyes.

Daniel caught himself with his mouth open, and closed it slowly. He tried not to laugh, but a couple of chuckles escaped him.

"What?" Theo asked, nettled.

"Nothing, sorry," Daniel said. "I just … I'm going to be staying here over the holidays. So, no."

"Oh," said Theo, taken aback. "Your parents going somewhere?"

"Yours?" Daniel countered, not prepared to give up his secret that easily.

Theo shook his head. "You know what they're like," he said. "I didn't tell them I'd be doing Muggle Studies. But they found out, and I don't really feel like going back just now." He sounded small, and sick.

"It's three months," Daniel said. "That's a long time to cool off."

Theo gave him a dark look. "They don't _cool off_," he said. "I wanted to ask now in case your parents needed convincing or something. I mean they're Muggles, and I don't really know the form for things like this. You know, Christmas and all."

"It'd usually be fine," Daniel told him. "But like I said, I'm not going home."

Theo's head drooped, and his corn-coloured hair flopped over into his eyes. "Fuck," he muttered. "Why these holidays?"

"What are they even going to do?" Daniel asked. "I mean, can't you just give them the line about knowing the enemy?"

Theo shook his head gloomily. "They may not be like me, but that doesn't mean they don't know me," he said. "They know exactly why I've done it."

A glorious idea occurred to Daniel, but he forced himself not to burst out with it straight away. He'd have to talk Theo around to it, so his next words were careful. "Is there a reason you don't want to stay here?"

Theo brought his hand up to his forehead so his hair kicked out over it instead of getting in his eyes. "People can't know," he said. "They can't. If I lose the name, I'm even more of a nobody than I already am."

Daniel snorted. "What, you mean like me?"

Theo shook his head and sat up straight again. "You're used to it," he said. "And you get on with people better than I do. You have friends everywhere, you don't need Slytherin like I do."

"You can work around that," Daniel said, still not quite convinced things were as serious as Theo made them out to be. "It's not like you couldn't make more friends if you wanted to."

Theo closed his eyes and was still. "It's not about me," he said eventually. "My father was a Death Eater. Still is, in every way that matters. It doesn't matter what I'm like. He'll be in the way."

"You're wrong," Daniel told him. "You get on with Granger - "

"She probably doesn't even know," Theo interrupted.

"Shut _up_," Daniel snapped. "I'm telling you how things are. People hardly notice you. People who hate Slytherin will hate you, sure. They hate all of us. But unless you talk yourself up as son of Satan, nobody's going to think of you like that. You're the one getting in your own way."

"Right," Theo said. "My fault, sure."

"Absolutely," Daniel said.

"Do you think I even fit in Slytherin?" Theo asked, looking down at the grass again. "I don't see why I was sorted here."

Daniel sighed. "Because you're a manipulative bitch," he said. "Just because you mess around with people without them noticing doesn't mean you don't do it at all."

Theo stared at him, blue eyes wide. "I am not!" he said, sounding seriously offended.

"You don't notice," Daniel said, unperturbed. "It's just the way you think. That's why you fit. As I see it, you're more of a Slytherin than Draco Malfoy, and I mean that with all my heart."

Theo just gaped at him. Daniel smiled, and looked away.

"Give me an example," Theo demanded. "Give me an example of me being a manipulative bitch."

Daniel didn't even have to think about it. "You're always getting Pansy to do your Herbology homework," he provided immediately. "Quoting Draco, making her think he likes her, softening her up. Making vague little promises of helping her out. She doesn't even realise you do it."

"That's just Pansy," Theo objected. "Everyone does that."

"Not half as well as you do," Daniel said. "I've even seen you work McGonagall, and she's one of the toughest."

Theo looked gutted.

"It's not a bad thing," Daniel said. "Like you said, everyone does it to some extent. You're just naturally talented with it."

Theo huffed. "Where are your parents going, then?" he asked. "You've never stayed before."

Daniel shrugged. "Just because you've told me a thing doesn't mean I'm telling you one."

"Even if I make vague promises to get you together with Turpin?" Theo asked wryly.

"Jesus _Christ_," Daniel said, completely exasperated. "I don't want to be with Lisa, how can nobody see that?"

Theo's mouth twitched, and he said nothing.

"I think she's with Goldstein now anyway," Daniel said. "So now neither of us are up for it, maybe you can all find a new hallucination to share."

"With Goldstein since when?" Theo said, too smugly for Daniel's liking.

"Didn't you see them last night?" Daniel said, unsure if he was walking into something. "They were holding hands practically all through Astronomy."

"Yeah," Theo said. "I thought there was something you were finding more interesting than the search for the Pleiades."

Daniel sighed. "She's my friend, and it was new," he said. "You've got to admit, the Pleiades aren't exactly a thrill a minute."

"Sure," Theo said as if he'd proved something. "What do you have to see Snape about anyway?"

Daniel rolled his eyes. "What _don't_ I have to see Snape about?" he said, as gloomily as he could.

Theo didn't look entirely convinced, but Daniel wouldn't let the silence draw anything out of him.

It stretched for almost five minutes before Theo sighed and gave in. "Can you tell me something?" he asked. "I've practically bared my soul here, is that worth nothing?"

"All things are not equal," Daniel said. "I'm not telling you stuff just because you told me stuff. Sets a dangerous precedent."

"We've missed the sunset," Theo said, and only then did Daniel notice how dark it was getting.

"What if there was somewhere else we could go for the holidays?" Daniel asked. "We could say we were visiting each other, and go anywhere we wanted."

"Like where?" Theo said. "Diagon Alley?"

"No," Daniel said, rolling his eyes. "That's way too obvious. I know somewhere we could go. Give you a whole lot of knowledge for Muggle Studies after the break."

Daniel was pretty sure he could see a gleam of interest somewhere in his friend's eyes, no matter how disapproving he might be trying to look. "I think you're insane," he said. "We can't just run off into Muggle land on our own."

"Stay here, then," Daniel said, getting to his feet. "Stay here and lose the Nott name that means so much to you. I have to go see Snape." He left Theo sitting in the increasingly chilly evening, still at least half an hour before eight.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"I want to talk to you."

Daniel spun in complete surprise. Here was Blaise Zabini, following him, talking to him voluntarily, without Daphne anywhere in sight and looking, unless Daniel was completely mistaken, considerably intrigued.

"What about?" Daniel asked, hand reaching for his wand pocket.

"Relax," Blaise said, folding his arms coolly across his chest. "When the time comes to curse you, I'll do it while you sleep."

"What do you want to talk about, then?" Daniel said, mirroring Blaise's stance. "And why should I listen?"

There was a calculating, or maybe just plain greedy, look in Blaise's dark eyes. "Because I could go talk to someone else about it, and I don't think you'd like that. At all."

"Why's that?" Daniel said, affecting boredom.

"You and Snape," Blaise said, and turned his back to walk away.

Seething, Daniel grabbed his arm and swung him back around. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

"You went to see him last night, and the night before," Blaise said, not even attempting to free his arm.

"He's the head of house, idiot."

"You're going to see him tonight."

"It's none of your business what I might need to see him about, you've got nothing over me," Daniel said, letting go.

"Tell me that after your little meeting tonight, mystery boy," Blaise said. "I've seen what I've seen. He turned again and walked away, pausing only to say, "Caden," over his shoulder. This time Daniel let him go, puzzled by the random word.

The conversation had taken long enough that he'd have to hurry to meet Snape on time. He hadn't meant to cut it so fine, but he'd had to avoid Peeves twice, and then he'd found a little first-year who didn't have quite as much experience at it as he did, and had walked him toward the hospital wing until he found someone he could foist him off on.

As he turned the last corner, he saw the telltale whirl of Snape's cloak as he entered the office. He probably wouldn't be called out about being late if he was there just a minute after Snape himself arrived. So he strolled the last hundred and fifty feet, trying to put the Blaise incident out of his mind before he entered.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"You're late," Snape said as Livingstone raised his hand to knock on the door, which he had left ajar, expecting the boy to come on time.

"Sorry," the Livingstone said, slipping through with a duck of the head and closing the door behind him. "I saw you come in, thought I'd give you a moment to settle in." His shirt was barely tucked in, his shoes were scuffed and his scarf was untied, hanging precariously around the back of his neck. His hair was an abominable tangle.

"How … thoughtful of you," Snape said, as sincerely as he could manage. "However, as a rule I prefer obedience to misguided attempts at helpfulness. In addition, if you are waiting outside my office, or indeed have any small respite from your no-doubt-hectic life, I expect you to take a moment and attend to your personal appearance."

"Right," Livingstone said, solemnly but with a hint of a smile, plunging his hands into his pockets. "I'll remember."

The thing that was preventing him from seeing Livingstone as a Seaver was the hair, Snape decided. Unlike most wizards, Idris had worn his hair short into adulthood, and Adara was much darker than Livingstone had turned out. The odds of someone seeing a resemblance without looking closely were exceptionally low. Knowing the Seavers, they had pre-arranged their son's life down to the very length of his hair to keep him safe from detection.

"Your efforts at Charms," Snape said, dismissing his own thoughts and waving his arm at the armchair. "I understand that Professor Flitwick does not have an issue with your endeavour, only its outcomes."

Livingstone sagged into the chair, and nodded. Snape waited for him to speak, as he had done countless times, with this boy more than any. "Yes," Livingstone said eventually. "That's the impression he gave me."

Snape produced a small piece of parchment from his top drawer and passed it over to Livingstone.

Livingstone glanced at it, and dropped his head. "I was in a bad mood," he said. "And it was the middle of practical Charms, so it was impossible to concentrate. That was all I could think of."

Snape held out his hand, and Daniel gave the parchment back to him. _Because I hate charms and wish they would vanish off the face of the Earth_, Livingstone had written, with penmanship that made it all too obvious where he had been brought up.

"It's the truth," the boy said, sounding defensive.

"Don't shrug," Snape instructed him. "It makes you look a simpleton."

Livingstone came dangerously close to rolling his eyes, but he caught himself just in time. "Fli - Professor Flitwick said the idea had some merit," he said. "Do you think so?"

"Yes," Snape said. "I do."

"So it's like a mental block?" Daniel said. "I can do them, just I think I can't."

"Mental block is a perfectly accurate term," Snape told him.

"I haven't listened to it again," Livingstone said quickly, looking up to meet Snape's eyes. "I'm not going to for all of this weekend. It's easier than I thought it would be."

"I doubt the barriers will weaken on their own," Snape said, pleased with the boy's perception. He was making the connections much faster than Snape had expected him to, especially considering how new the concepts must be to him. "Minimising contact will help the process, but further steps will need to be taken."

"Uh, okay," Livingstone said, understandably squeamish at the prospect. "What kind of steps?"

"Intensive Legilimency," Snape said, concealing his own distaste for the task. "Strictly speaking, permission from both the headmaster and your legal guardians are required for such a procedure to be performed on a student. My understanding is that you would prefer this not to be sought." It wasn't like Muggles could even give informed consent when it came to magic, but Snape didn't want to imagine Dumbledore's reaction if he ever found out. However much he might look down on Slytherin as a house, Snape knew better than to think he didn't care anything for the individual students who found themselves there. Livingstone especially, as a Muggleborn, would find himself fiercely defended.

"What's Legilimency?" Livingstone asked, sounding worried.

"The reverse of Occlumency," Snape said. "The proactive mental art, where Occlumency is reactive."

"That's not even an answer," Livingstone said sharply. "And anyway, aren't the barriers doing good things? Means no one will find about anything, everything important's hidden."

Perhaps he had not understood as clearly as it had seemed. He was looking defensive, and slightly wild-eyed.

"Do you wish to remain incapable of spellcasting for your entire life?" Snape scoffed, watching him carefully. "Such patterns, if permitted to endure, quickly become permanent."

"I'm missing something," Livingstone admitted. "I'm not seeing the connection."

Snape steeled himself. "It is my belief," he began, "that in shielding your mind against intruders seeking information about your past, your parents have inadvertently altered other parts of your mind."

Livingstone absorbed this in silence. Snape let him think it through, hoping he would not have to explain the particulars.

"Their Occlumency got mixed up in the things they told me to do, and not to do," Livingstone said after a moment, walking himself through the concept. "Is that what you mean?"

"Yes," Snape said.

"Like the not doing accidental magic."

"Yes."

"Which is pretty much charms before you know a name for it."

"Yes."

Livingstone shuddered suddenly, and wrapped his arms around his stomach. "Listening to it all the time like I did made it stronger."

"Yes."

He snatched compulsively at the necklace through his shirt, then let go as if it had shocked him. "But that message was years ago," he protested, sitting bolt upright and glaring at Snape. "I only started listening so much over the summer."

Snape bit back his question about that, and returned to the point. "It is my belief that each time the connection is made in your mind, all of the structures are strengthened, no matter how old."

"If we tear it down, then I can't hide things any more," Livingstone said miserably. "Not as well as they're hidden now."

"Leaving things as they are is not an option," Snape told him firmly. "Not when such a thing would likely leave you crippled for life."

"But Blaise is already nosing around," Livingstone said. Snape watched the boy's impulses and inhibitions flood across his face, more openly than he'd ever seen them on Livingstone before. Then his expression stilled, and he met Snape's eyes calmly.

"What's Caden?"


	7. Tense and Release

That was the last thing Snape had expected to be asked. He allowed only a small measure of curiosity to pass across his face. Livingstone was a Slytherin; a blank expression would tell him far more than he should know.

"Where did you hear it?" he asked, apparently idly.

Livingstone watched his face without any attempt at subtlety. "Blaise said it, just now," he said, eyes hard. "He's acting like he knows what's going on here, he said he could tell people."

"What has he said? _Exactly._"

"Nothing really," Livingstone said, "Just about us meeting three nights in a row, and that after tonight I'd know what he was talking about. He said, 'I've seen what I've seen.' Then he just walked off and said Caden, but I have no idea what that means."

Snape couldn't help but close his eyes for the briefest of moments. He probably could convince Livingstone that Zabini was talking at random, and knew nothing. But unless Zabini had a direct line into Snape's brain, there was no way he would know to say Caden. His family hadn't even been in England during the war. There was absolutely no connection between the Zabinis and the Seavers.

"Do you know what he wants?"

Livingstone shook his head glumly. "He'll let me stew on it for pretty much ever," he said. "His M.O.'s pretty simple. Drop hints, smirk a lot, then when you go to him, he pretends to have forgotten the whole thing. But the hints don't stop, and eventually you're offering your firstborn just to get him to shut his mouth. He haggles you up to your first three, and even then sometimes he'll let things slip."

Snape absorbed this. If he was planning to illegally use Legilimency on a thirteen-year-old student from his own house, he might as well sink to Obliviating them as well.

It would be easier just to go to Dumbledore. Repaying his debt to the Seavers was all very well and good, but his debt to Dumbledore was just as strong, and the impossible old headmaster was still alive.

"He knows something, doesn't he," Livingstone said, tactlessly interrupting Snape's thoughts. "You know what he knows."

"Yes," Snape said, not seeing any reason to lie. "I do. Be quiet."

"I'd rather not," Livingstone said, shifting to sit on the edge of his chair. "It's a secret about me, and if Blaise gets to know it I think I should as well."

"Yes," Snape said acerbically. "Now especially, when the longevity of your shields has been called into question. The ideal time to increase your knowledge of the dangerous."

"Why not?" Livingstone objected, eyes raised insolently. "It's not like one more secret's going to make a difference now! Might as well be all or nothing."

"You are wrong," Snape told him, forcing his temper down, keeping his face as calm as possible. Livingstone still backed off a little, eyes cautious. "There is little in what you know that will lead anyone to any dangerous facts. It is all your own conjecture."

"You believe me," Livingstone said, wavering between anger and what sounded like sudden, stomach-clenching doubt. He edged forward on his seat, his posture begging Snape to reassure him.

_I appear to believe you, _Snape thought irritably, but bit back the words.

"Indeed," he said, trying for slightly patronising. Judging by the look on Livingstone's face, he'd hit his mark. "Nevertheless, should your entire knowledge of the matter be exposed, it is mere speculation. I assure you, there is nothing for you to worry about."

Livingstone's shoulders twitched, and he remained sitting tensely on the edge of his seat. He reached a hand up to pull his tie away from his neck, twisting it sharply in his hands.

"Have you no self-control?" Snape asked, watching him distastefully.

"I'm with _you_," Livingstone said in what Snape couldn't call anything but a whine. "Can't I have a _break _from control? No one can spy on us here, _remember_?"

It was bad enough Snape had to suffer endless flashbacks to his school years due to the nauseating resemblance between Potter and his son. He did not need a child from his own house reminding him of the far more horrifying years that followed. Now that he knew Livingstone for a Seaver, he suspected such moments would become far too frequent for his liking.

"Either wear your tie, Livingstone, or put it away," he said with all the discipline he could muster. "I am not giving up my time to watch you destroy your uniform, or to whinge to me about the unfairness of your life."

The boy's hands stilled, and he slumped back into his chair. There was something he wanted to say, Snape knew, but couldn't work himself up to. Snape waited as long as he could manage, then decided he had indulged the boy's hesitancy long enough.

"Livingstone," he said. "I appreciate that you are in a difficult position, but my time is limited, and you are testing my patience. Today we shall discuss how to overcome your problem with Charms. I shall then spend more of my own personal time looking into some other matters, and when I feel I have reached a point where your participation is necessary, I shall inform you. Do you have anything you need to say to me about this?"

"Yes," said Livingstone, stuffing his tie into his pocket. "But if I ask — what if Blaise can — "

"That does not concern me," Snape said. "Ask."

Livingstone breathed in slowly. "Why are you helping, and how can I be useful in, you know the big picture, and how long will it take to fix Charms, and will you have to tell all the other teachers?"

Such a curious mixture of caution and desperation, Snape thought. He was pleased at the care Livingstone took with his words despite Snape's admonition just seconds ago, but this unconditional trust he seemed to be placing was very unhealthy for him. So many questions at once was a clear-cut admission of dependence, and the eager look in the boy's normally cool green eyes was just asking to be flattened.

Green eyes. Snape could have killed Potter for ever procreating, if he hadn't been thoroughly beaten to it by his old master. No. Livingstone's eyes were _nothing_ like hers: they were at least half-grey, and dusky where hers had been iridescent. Her eyes had always sparkled with emotion; Livingstone's seemed to darken, if the last few days were any indication.

Ah, yes. The questions. Livingstone was starting to look rather impatient. "The first two questions can wait," Snape told him. "You have heard quite enough on the first already, and the second is far too complicated to be able to answer at this time."

"It's not just Charms, you know," Livingstone said, looking glum. "Defence is alright since Lu - _Professor _Lupin's just doing dark creatures for now, but when it comes to jinxes and blocks and things, it's the same there."

Snape hadn't been able to entirely conceal his approving smirk at Livingstone's treatment of the word 'Professor' when used in connection with Lupin. "Your difficulties are known among the staff already," he said. "Professor Flitwick has expressed some concern over your _emotional_ state, but your accomplished performance in Transfiguration has left most of us baffled."

Livingstone's eyes went stony, and he stared fixedly over Snape's right shoulder. "Glad to hear you're all talking about me behind my back," he said, voice thick and full of repressed anger.

Snape slammed his open hand down on his desk, hard. Livingstone jumped out of his skin, and even in his exasperated state, Snape noticed with dismay that he didn't have the automatic reflex to reach for his wand.

"I should not have to _tolerate _your behaviour when you come to me begging for my assistance," he snapped. "Would you prefer I dumped your problems on the headmaster's lap? I tell you now, I am _thoroughly _tempted to do just that."

Livingstone sagged and ground the heels of his hands into his eyes, but to Snape's eternal relief there were no traces of tears when his face emerged, just undisguised weariness.

"I can't — look, just tell me what I can do to fix Charms and not fu — uh, _mess _anything else up," he said hopelessly. "Then I'll go away."

That was music to Snape's ears. "Do nothing," he said. "Nothing you can do on your own will help until I have decided how we will proceed. Simply avoid contact with your necklace, and wait for news from me."

Livingstone stood, but only just. "And just waste ten hours a week waving my wand like an idiot in Charms?"

"That is something you will have to discuss with Professor Flitwick," Snape said, sick enough of the boy that he didn't bother to hide his satisfaction with that response. "Anything else?"

Livingstone shook his head, and turned to leave.

"Answer," Snape said, from force of habit more than any real desire to prolong the encounter.

"No, sir," the boy said, and let himself out.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

There was nothing Daniel wanted more than to stumble down the stairs into their dorm, close his curtains and go to sleep for a hundred years. As soon as he entered the common room, he knew he would have to wait. It seemed there was an impromptu house meeting; Ambrose Miller was standing by the fireplace, arms crossed over his chest.

"— excuses," he was saying, glaring at mostly the younger students. "Nobody else will be helping us here, this is something we do for each other."

Daniel looked around for Theo, and found him sitting with the rest of their year and half the fourth-years. No chance of getting through to sit over there.

"It's not much to ask of you young ones," Ambrose continued, "Hagrid isn't very careful about his strength, so even if there was nothing seriously wrong with him, I'd still be advising you to be careful."

"Have you been around the back of his cottage?" Ray Burge asked, wrinkling his nose. "Place reeks of booze, and from what I hear his size doesn't much help him when it comes to getting pissed."

"Thank you, Burge," Ambrose said. "But unless he's drunk during a lesson, it's only an issue if it causes direct harm. Remember the objectives, here. Draco will be taking a lot of the fall on this one, and we all know where the hatred is going to come from. We have to support the thirds in this however we can. But we're doing this within the rules, so if anyone here steps outside of them on this, they'll be answering to whatever teacher takes an interest, but also to the rest of this house, and me personally. Understood?"

There were murmurs, and nods. "Thirds, stay," Ambrose said. "And everyone who takes Hagrid's class. Everyone else can do as they like."

The room cleared enough that Daniel could go over to join his year. About twenty older students wandered over as well, levitating two of the tables with them.

"This had better work fast," said one of the seventh-year girls, a tall girl with white-blonde hair and freckles who Daniel thought was called Amy. "He's an absolute joke, and sprung on us in NEWT year?"

"Maybe we should be working on sacking Dumbledore," the sixth-year next to her, an unpleasant boy called Wendell, said darkly. "He's the one gave him the job."

"You're all angry," Ambrose said flatly. "I'm angry. Frankly, I'm mostly angry that no-one else is angry. We've got to p — "

"Put away the anger," the seventh-years chorused, and Ambrose grinned sheepishly.

"It's important," he said.

"We know how to do this, idiot," the blonde girl said. "Records, caution, above-board."

"Thorough," someone else added.

"What's the line on Gryffindors?" someone asked.

There was a short, tense silence.

"Fuck 'em," Millicent said dismissively.

"Wise words," Ambrose said, grinning at her while laughter rippled around the group. "Any more questions? I know most of you have class tomorrow, you're all ready?"

People nodded, and most shoved their chairs back to leave.

"Thank you," Draco said, like he'd been on pause through the whole conversation and someone had only just remembered to press play. Before anyone could react, he stood abruptly and, well, _fled_ down to the dorm.

"I think I need to have a word with that one," Ambrose said, shaking his head and walking off to his friends, who were waiting for him by the doorway.

Daniel wasn't in the mood for a debriefing. It wasn't like he was in Hagrid's class anyway, all he had to do was be nice to Draco and wary of Hagrid. He pretty much did that anyway. Except for the being nice to Draco part. He stood and went down to the dorm before anyone could talk to him, hoping he could get into bed and be as good as asleep before any of the others came down.

He'd forgotten Draco had preceded him in there. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, staring at his feet. He looked up as Daniel entered. When their eyes met, he looked down awkwardly.

"I'm just going to bed," Daniel said, changing quickly and closing his curtains behind him.

"Do you understand it?" Draco asked him softly.

Daniel nearly just ignored him, but thought maybe he should practise being nice. "Understand what?"

"All this."

Daniel wanted a desk in front of him, so he could smack it really hard. It had looked like a lot of fun when Snape did it. "I'm tired," he said, lying down. "In a rotten mood. Not going to put effort into understanding. Talk plain."

He dropped off without hearing another word.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He was woken what felt like fairly late in the morning by earnest voices from somewhere outside his curtain.

"We should look," Draco was saying. "Remember the dragon? That would be the perfect way."

"Were you even listening to Ambrose?" Goyle said. "We're doing it _without _breaking the rules."

"Potter goes to see Hagrid all the time," Draco said sulkily. "It's not like the shack's out of bounds or anything."

"Potter has nothing to do with it," Goyle said fiercely. "If you weren't so obsessed with _him_, this wouldn't even have happened."

"This way we get to get rid of Hagrid," Crabbe pointed out. "He's done us all a favour, nearly getting his arm ripped off."

"And think, none of you have even said thank you," Draco said, sounding bitter. "I don't see why I should have to follow Ambrose's rules when I'm the one who got mauled by a savage beast."

"You don't see straight," Crabbe said. "When you get angry, you get stupid."

Daniel was glad he was behind the curtain so he didn't have to hide his look of surprise and glee at this development.

"You're one to talk about stupid," Draco said, but his heart didn't seem to be quite in it.

"It's not rules, it's common sense," Crabbe said sternly. Daniel started to wonder if they even knew he was in the room. Certainly he'd never heard either Crabbe or Goyle talk like this to Draco before. He'd never have thought Draco would take it so well, either.

"We're not _common_," Draco said, with a soft kind of menace, aimed at nobody in particular. "We can do what we want."

"Fine," Crabbe said. "If you want Hagrid to stick around, and you to look like an idiot, go ahead with it."

"He's not going to keep dragons in his hut any more," said Goyle, sounding regretful. "Not after you saw in first year."

"You can never underestimate that oaf's stupidity," Draco said haughtily. "We'll go during the seventh-year class."

Daniel heard them heading towards the door, but then Draco spoke up and they stopped. "You two go on," he said. "I forgot to finish my letter, I'll be up in a few minutes."

Crabbe and Goyle left, and Draco shut the door behind them.

Daniel poked his head out of his curtains. Draco had apparently been waiting for him to do just that, because he was just sitting there watching the gap.

"I was wondering if you were awake," he said companionably. "Theo said he had a study group or something, so not to look for him."

Daniel opened his curtains and smiled sweetly. "What subject would that be for?" he asked.

Draco's eyes narrowed. "Idiot class," he said, then seemed to catch himself and grinned ruefully. "You want to be lookout for the search?"

There was something missing in Draco's tone. It was too smooth, with no hint of the mild antagonism he was used to.

Daniel shrugged. "Doesn't sound like much fun in it for me," he said.

Draco bit his lip and cocked his head thoughtfully. "Will you please be lookout for the search?" he said, eyes fixed on Daniel's.

"Okay," Daniel said unthinkingly, thrown for a loss by a _polite_ _request _from Draco Malfoy. A humble, amiable Draco Malfoy, whose grey eyes held no trace of guile. Daniel felt a shiver run down his spine.

Draco smiled at him sweetly, a perfect mirror Daniel's smile from earlier. "Thank you," he said. He picked up a piece of parchment from his bed and left without a backward glance.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel wasn't technically out-of-bounds, he was pretty sure. It was the forest part of the Forbidden Forest that students weren't allowed in, and this little hollow was at least fifty feet away from the outermost trees. It was downhill from Hagrid's hut, completely out of view of the castle, a perfect place to find some peace, so long as Hagrid wasn't at home. The only reason it wasn't a wildly popular make-out spot was its distance from the castle; it had taken Daniel almost twenty minutes to get here, even walking quickly.

He lay down on a relatively level patch of grass, facing the Forest, and pulled out the book he'd borrowed from the library that morning: _Mental Magic: Mastery of the Mind. _Keeping an eye on the forest in case Hagrid returned for any reason, he sighed and opened it to the first page.Since he was completely alone, he read aloud; he always understood things much more quickly that way, and could sound out unfamiliar words without embarrassment. Maybe he should come here to study more often, with no distractions and no people for him to feel guilty about distracting.

It was windy enough he had to hold down the pages as he read. He'd seen a charm for it last year, when Ashley Cavendish, one of last year's 7th-year prefects, had run study groups that were really thinly-veiled Defence lessons. They'd gone outside wherever possible, but Daniel wasn't sure why. She'd probably just liked the fresh air.

After about twenty minutes with the book, Daniel was thoroughly downcast. He'd known it wasn't exactly an instruction manual from when he'd flipped through it in the library, but it seemed like every second sentence was designed to turn the reader away from ever acting on anything written there. Phrases like "detrimental corollaries", "potential psychosis" and "immutable impairment" were everywhere, making him feel sick every time he read them aloud. He needed his dictionary painfully often as well, for words like "imbrication" and "fugacious", as well as to double-check meanings for words he really felt he should know. He didn't see why people couldn't just use lots of little words, make it easier for everyone involved.

By the time he'd finished the introductory chapter, he was certain Snape was the bravest man alive. Either that, or Daniel had a book that was nothing to do with what Snape had been talking about. It didn't seem that similar on the surface: Snape had talked about barriers and blocks, the book nattered on about about partitions and bulwarks and lines of demarcation. All that probably meant, unfortunately, was that Snape wasn't a pretentious twit like this Camilla DuLac. It wasn't even like the book was hundreds of years old: he'd checked, and it was published in 1978.

It couldn't be a good sign that he was switching to Arithmancy as light study relief. It took about twenty minutes to do the reading he needed for Wednesday, and as he closed the book and shoved it back into his bag, the wind picked up and he could smell rain on the air. He watched the Forest, doubting they'd come back just because of a bit of rain, but determined to see them straight away if they did.

Without something to study, Daniel found his hand creeping up to his chest, fingers running over the small bump in his t-shirt that was the ring of his necklace. All the comfort and reassurance associated with that gesture had been twisted into a sickened kind of desolation, and the slow beginnings of what felt like anger.

He tore his hand away and sat up, even though he knew the necklace would follow him up, being as it was permanently around his neck. He grabbed at the DuLac book again, desperate for something to fill his mind before he lost it completely.

He managed to read, "If a wizard or witch has not sufficiently substantial substrata - " before throwing the book down in disgust and closing his eyes. He breathed, and counted, and calmed, abandoning his watchman duties in favour of salvaging his own sanity.

He was at home, in his room, sitting cross-legged on the bed with his eyes closed. The air was cool and brisk, with maybe a hint of onion and steak from the neighbours' barbecue outside. He couldn't hear it over the music playing in his living room, some kind of horn-heavy art rock from his their glory days. He heard Rick's low chuckle, and Penny's voice, sounding teasing, but too soft for him to be able to pick out any words. He sank down into the mattress, letting their voices and the fuzzy bass from the music push down his other senses until he was just warm, and untroubled.

Something warm and damp was pressing into his hand. His hair was wet, cold and all over his face. He didn't have to open his eyes; he knew the smell of a wet dog from plenty of personal experience. So with that hand he reached absently around to scratch it behind the ears, and with the other hand he pushed his hair back out of his eyes.

The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was the library book, rapidly getting soaked in the rain. He had the brief vindictive thought that it was no better than the damn thing deserved, but a vision of a furious Pince bearing down on him had him scrambling to grab it and stuff it into his bag with the rest of the books. He'd have to get Terry to dry it out for him. And maybe renew the waterproofing charm on his bag, now that he thought of it.

"Thanks," he said, turning to look at the dog. "I owe you one." His heart skipped a little when he saw the size of the thing: it looked like a wolfhound, but was easily the biggest one Daniel had ever seen. He wouldn't be surprised if it weighed more than he did. Its wet black fur was bedraggled, making it look a lot like Daniel was feeling. He held out a hand for it, and it came up and snuffled at him curiously.

"You're not Hagrid's, are you?" he said, rubbing its throat. It whined, and wagged its tail fiercely. "What are you doing out here in the rain?"

It barked softly, turning big pale eyes up to him as if to turn the question right back around. It unnerved Daniel, how much more human animals were in the wizarding world. Khan, Goyle's rat, was positively eerie, the way it chittered to people when they spoke to it, and for the most part did as it was told. It wasn't the exception, either. Whether it was just being around magic, or some wizard thing, or that they were different animals, Daniel didn't know.

The rain was easing, but since he was already soaking wet, Daniel didn't pay it much mind. "Students aren't allowed dogs," he told the dog firmly. "Are you from the Forest? Are you some kind of superdog conjured to save me from the Doom of Pince?"

Its ears moved back, and it stuck its tongue out. Even normal dogs could laugh, Daniel was sure. "Could you stretch your powers to a drying charm that won't crinkle the pages, then?" he said. "Just to, you know, finish the job?"

Panting happily, the dog lay down and rested its head on Daniel's leg. "I guess not," he said, searching for a favourite spot around the ears.

When the rain stopped completely, Daniel reached over to pull the DuLac out of his bag, and shook his head to get all the loose water out of his hair. At that, the dog stood and shook itself all over, spraying water everywhere. It looked at Daniel triumphantly when it was done, wagging its tail slowly and deliberately.

"Yeah okay, you win," Daniel said, rolling his eyes and opening the book.

The pages were perfectly dry. For one stupid moment, Daniel stared at the dog in disbelief. Then he realised that if Terry could waterproof a bag, then a librarian, or a bookmaker or whatever, could just as easily waterproof a book.

"I am the stupidest person alive," he announced. "Now I will prove it to you by completely failing to understand a single word in this little shit of a book. Watch me."

He started to read the second chapter, which was all about the "substrata" required before you could delve into the actual magic. The dog resumed its position with its head heavy on his leg, seemingly unfussed by Daniel's shifting around when he had to consult his dictionary, which felt to Daniel like it was every second word. The stupid book still didn't make all that much sense to him, even reading it over twice aloud, with dictionary definitions and everything.

After a while, the dog got up and shook itself again. When droplets hit the open book, they soaked in and vanished without a trace. Daniel wrung out what he could of his own hair straight onto the page, impressed by the effectiveness of the charm. When he looked back up, the dog was entering the forest, and Daniel's heart dropped. So much for man's best friend.

Maybe it _was _Hagrid's dog, he thought then, and it could tell he was coming back. He gathered his stuff together quickly, put the bag strap over his shoulder and sat watching for any glimpse of enormous men coming from the forest. In a couple of minutes the dog came lolloping back, a huge stick in its jaws, with no sign of Hagrid. Daniel grinned and dumped his bag.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

It was mostly luck that Daniel saw the silver sparks over Hagrid's hut that meant the search was done and they were going. He was completely burnt out by that point, and to his surprise the dog could barely lift its head either. They'd been romping for maybe an hour, ignoring the returning rain, but running out of gas when it dried up again. Daniel was sitting looking down the hill to the forest, wrist over one raised knee, and the dog was lying on its side with its head on his other ankle. It wasn't often Daniel felt simple physical exhaustion, and he tended to forget how relaxing it could be. They rested in a comfortable silence until the dog stirred, yelping softly and looking pointedly over Daniel's shoulder. He turned to see the sparks trickling down and fading out from over Hagrid's hut.

"Cheers," he said, reaching across to thump its flank. "I better go, see what they found out. Maybe Hagrid's got another dragon after all." He got up, and the dog hauled itself to its feet beside him. Just as he started to wonder if it would start to follow him around, it nudged his hand, wagged its tail and trotted off back towards the forest.

Daniel watched it go, fixing the hour in his mind in case he needed somewhere else to escape to. He expected he would very soon, between Blaise, Draco, Snape and his thrice-damned parents. Contented enough for once to be able to dismiss his future worries, he made his way slowly up to the castle, hardly noticing when it started to pour down with rain yet again.


	8. Reactions

They met up in a spare classroom down in the dungeons, just Draco and Daniel. Draco was sitting behind the teacher's desk, staring thoughtfully down at a piece of parchment, slowly twirling a quill around in his right hand. He looked up when the door opened, smiling companionably when he saw it was Daniel.

"Any luck?" Daniel asked, working hard at not being unnerved.

"Some," Draco said, twitching the quill in a come-here gesture. "You're all wet," he commented easily. "Need a charm?"

"No," Daniel said, unable to keep the frost out of his voice. It was all very well for Theo or Terry to help him out with charms. _They_ weren't Malfoys.

Draco shrugged, unconcerned. He was perfectly dry of course, blond hair immaculate. "Okay," he said. "I've made a list of all the things I found that are restricted. I didn't see anything I recognised as outright illegal, but I'm sure he doesn't have a licence for everything there."

"No dragons, then," Daniel said, walking around the desk so he was standing next to Draco. "Shame, that, I'd like to see one."

"They're grotesque when they're little," Draco said. "All wrinkly, like giant slimy bats."

"And that's supposed to make me want to see one less?" Daniel said, eyebrows raised.

"If you want to see horrifically ugly creatures, you should be taking the class," Draco said, arching only one.

"I would have considered switching if Dumbledore hadn't subbed Hagrid in," Daniel said, looking down at the list Draco had made. He barely recognised anything on there, except for a few familiar-looking words he'd probably seen in Herbology, or maybe Potions. "Did you look up these things beforehand?" he asked, once he thought to wonder how exactly Draco knew so confidently what the restricted items were.

Draco laughed. It made him look like a sprite, with wicked, gleeful eyes and pointy chin. "You could say that," he said. "Runs in the family."

Of course. Draco was being an enormous hypocrite. No longer he was enjoying himself so much.

"This isn't enough to get him sacked, is it?" Daniel said.

"No, of course not," Draco said brusquely. "But all information is useful information if you use it the right way. This was a worthwhile exercise."

"I'm glad you think so," Daniel said, heading towards the door.

"Hey, Daniel," Draco said, hurrying to follow him. "I appreciate you helping me out with this. You sure you don't want a drying charm? You look like a drowned puppy."

Daniel realised that he would never be able to outplay Draco at this kind of game. He'd never had Draco's full attention turned on him like this before, and he wasn't holding his own nearly as well as he felt he should be.

"What do you want, Draco?" he asked, stopping and turning to face him.

Draco tilted his head slightly and gave Daniel a small smile. "I'm trying something new," he said simply. He then stood and waited to see what Daniel had to say.

"What, being nice to people?" Daniel retorted rudely.

Just for a second, Draco looked vulnerable. Maybe even only for half a second. But it was there, no matter how quickly he recovered from it. "Well, yes," he said with a defiant lift of the head. "Nothing wrong with that."

First Blaise, now Draco. What was next, Weasley coming up and offering him a spit shake?

"Well, good," he said, just for something to say. "I hope that works out for you."

Draco's lips twitched upwards. "Oh, I think it will," he said. "Shall we?"

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

It was an odd feeling, walking into the Great Hall for lunch side by side with Draco, like they were pals. Crabbe and Goyle were in their usual spots, and Millicent was down with the fourth-year boys like usual. No-one else from their year was there, so Daniel, feeling like he was in a dream, sat down on the other side of Goyle and grabbed a roll. Goyle didn't react, but Crabbe glared across at him like it was Daniel's fault Draco had decided to be his friend.

"You two done your Charms homework yet?" Draco asked, grabbing Crabbe's sandwich and sniffing it suspiciously. Then he nodded approvingly and took a bite. Crabbe shook his head in answer and started to make himself another one. Goyle slumped back in his seat. If Daniel didn't know better, he'd think that was an invitation into the conversation.

"What are you up to this afternoon, then?" Draco asked, glancing across to him.

"Arithmancy," Daniel said quickly. He was _not _going to spend the rest of the day with Draco and his posse, no matter how agreeable Draco was going to be.

He got a little, knowing look for that, and a disgustingly complicit grin.

"I'd better go meet Terry, actually," he lied hastily. "See you later."

With brief apologetic looks to both Crabbe and Goyle, he walked out of the hall.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Armed with only his Charms book and his wand, Daniel was just leaving the common room after a summons from Snape when Daphne came rushing up, wand out and face pale.

"Daniel!" she exclaimed breathlessly. "Go see if Amy or Gwen are in there, get them out here right away. Someone's cursed Blaise."

"I don't know — "

"Go!"

He turned back into the room, looking around. He was glad to see Amy curled up in a chair by the fireplace, because it meant he wouldn't have to approach Gwen Chalmers. He hurried up to her. "Daphne says Blaise needs your help," he said. "She needs you right away."

She just frowned at him. "What's happened?"

"I don't know," Daniel said, backing away towards the door, hoping it would somehow pull her along with him. "She's really worried." He resisted the temptation to announce to Slytherin at large that Blaise had been cursed. "It's not me asking," he said. "It's her."

"Okay," she said, standing up. "Where is she?"

"Outside," Daniel said, opening the door for her.

She strode out past him, but the corridor was empty. She turned on him. "If you're — "

Daniel hurried away, in the direction Daphne had come from. "She came from over here," he called back. "She probably went back to stay with him. She said he'd been cursed."

Next thing he knew, the seventh-year girl was running past him, turning left and out of sight.

It took Daniel a moment to make up his mind. Since Blaise apparently had some dirt on him, he was damned if he didn't see what he could get out of this. The fifth-year messenger had never said _when _Snape expected him, after all.

He turned the corner after Amy just in time to see her entering a classroom and closing the door after her. Daniel positioned himself outside, nominally guarding the door but mostly just trying to listen in.

"I've mostly stopped the bleeding," he heard Daphne say, above harsh, pained breathing.

"Tell me - "

Absolute, artificial silence. He waited a moment, then knocked lightly on the door.

It opened a crack, and Daphne peered through.

"Do you want me to tell Snape?" Daniel asked her softly. "I have a meeting with him now."

She shook her head. Her dark green eyes were bright with fear, and Daniel had never seen her looking so pale. "Just go away," she said. "I'll talk to you later."

The door closed in his face.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Snape didn't know how Livingstone had lived with Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini for over two years, and not absorbed any of their standards in personal appearance. He had mud stains on his jeans, a rip in the side of his shirt, and his hair looked it had been washed in mud, dried with a hasty charm and then completely forgotten about.

"What did I tell you, Livingstone, about attending to your state of dress?"

Livingstone smiled brightly, and apologised with breathtaking insincerity. "What's up?" he asked.

"Do not," Snape said forbiddingly, "ever use that revolting phrase in my hearing for as long as you live. No, don't sit down." Livingstone stood up straight again, looking at him curiously. "There are some things I need to verify, and such an investigation should not be carried out in a place like this."

Livingstone looked around. "What's wrong with it?" he asked. "You said it was private."

He could _see _the tangles in the boy's hair. "It is," he said through gritted teeth. "Fix your hair."

"Fix your own," Livingstone retorted, then recoiled in horror. "Uh," he said.

Snape was torn between blind rage at the old insult, and vindictive delight in the look of alarm on Livingstone's face. He compromised by folding his arms across his chest and simply watching the boy's panic grow.

Livingstone opened his mouth a couple of times, but couldn't manage to vocalise. Snape took no pity on him. The boy was in this state rarely enough that it was worth savouring while it lasted.

"I — I can't fix it," he managed after about a minute. "No charms, remember?"

When Snape remained silent, Livingstone reached a hand up to comb roughly through his hair, wincing as it caught almost immediately. "It's not like I carry a comb around with me, I'm not a girl," he muttered, staring at the floor.

"Come," Snape said, leading the boy to the fireplace. "Have you travelled by Floo before?"

Light green eyes flickered up to his briefly. "No," he mumbled.

"Take some Floo powder," Snape instructed him, holding out the box. "A good-sized handful."

The boy warily did as he was told.

"We are going to my quarters," Snape said, then wondered if the boy's reaction to those words counted as blanching. He decided it did. "So you will throw the powder into the fire, step in, and say, 'Professor Snape's quarters'. I will be following you directly."

Livingstone gulped, then squared his shoulders. He tossed the powder into the fire, watching with interest as it turned bright green, then stepped in without hesitation. "Professor Snape's quarters," he said, and vanished. Snape allowed himself an approving nod at the boy's nerve before following him through the fire.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Do you have a plan?" Livingstone asked as soon as Snape arrived. "Did you find something?"

"I have told you, you are here so I can do some reconnaissance," Snape said, stepping out of the grate. At Livingstone's blank look, he added, "Determining the state of affairs."

"Oh," Livingstone said. "Then why did I have to bring my Charms text?"

Snape didn't dignify that question with an answer. "I will be looking into your mind much like last time, but this time you will be attempting the magic that you find impossible."

Livingstone nodded. "So you can see what's going on," he said, keen to demonstrate his understanding.

"Indeed," Snape said. "You should be seated. Go into the next room and take out your wand."

Livingstone gave him a curious look as they entered the trial room, but sat in the one chair and fished around in his bag for his wand.

"Your wand should be closer to hand," Snape told him. "Do not allow yourself to develop bad habits simply because your magic is suffering a setback." He closed the door behind them.

"Ideally, you should perform a simple levitation or light charm, which I understand you are still capable of, and then follow it with one you are incapable of. If this is beyond you, we shall simply have to let you grow accustomed to my presence in your mind."

"Is it going to be like last time? I think I can do that."

"Good," Snape said. "My eyes, now."

He took more care this time, trying to seep through the boy's thoughts rather than rifling through them as quickly as he had previously. He focused firmly on the barrier, letting glimpses of a distraught Greengrass, a debonair Malfoy and a large, black, wet dog pass by without notice. Plenty of time for that later.

The barrier was no weaker for Livingstone's few days of abstinence.

"_Lumos_," he heard Livingstone say, from a great distance.

"Again," he said, having only felt a slight wavering around him.

"_Lumos_."

"Now, a harder one."

"_Tollo onerum_."

"Lumos again."

"_Lumos_."

"Now with all your strength."

"_Lumos_."

Snape slipped carefully out of the boy's mind, reluctantly steering clear of a tantalising scene where Malfoy had his wand on Zabini in the boys' dorm.

"That was _hard_," the boy said softly, once his eyes managed to focus themselves. "Did it work?"

"Describe how you feel," Snape said, carefully noting the way the boy's head was sinking gradually forwards, and the slight tremor in his right hand.

"Vague," Livingstone said, his eyes losing focus. "Brain eaten by zombies. Maybe becoming one."

"Come on out," Snape told him, taking an arm and hoisting him up. Supporting almost all of the boy's weight, he led him out to the main room and lowered him into an armchair. The boy flopped, exhausted.

Snape couldn't stand sick people. They never seemed to know what they needed, and he hated guessing. He decided to just let the boy fall asleep. It was only three thirty, after all. He could easily be tutoring him for two hours without anyone commenting. That meant an hour and a half of peace for him, right now. He could probably finish the fifth-year marking, leaving only the third and sixth for the evening.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"_Livingstone_," someone said impatiently.

There was something he was supposed to do about that. He let the word float around in his mind for a while, but was interrupted by a jostling at his shoulder. "Whurrrg," he said in protest.

It went away.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

It tasted kind of like tomato juice, but mostly like bad eggs. He couldn't spit it out; his mouth was stuck closed. So he swallowed. Then his mouth could open again, but it just got filled with more goop, which he was then forced to swallow. After the fourth time, he managed to turn his face away.

"Gross," he said, trying fruitlessly to lick the taste out of his mouth.

"If you could just wake up like a normal person, it would not have been necessary," Snape told him pitilessly. "Now you need to return to your friends."

"My head still feels funny," Daniel said, tilting it experimentally.

"You have been asleep for two hours," Snape said. "Now that I have been forced to use a potion, it will be difficult to determine how much you have recovered naturally."

"Can I have some water?"

Snape just glared at him.

"Can I have some water, please?"

Nothing.

"_May_ I have some water, please Professor sir?"

"You will come to see me at eight o'clock this evening," Snape announced. "The potion's effects should wear off after three hours, and I will not have you gallivanting about at that time." He walked off into another room, hopefully to get the water, leaving Daniel to sit and feel muzzy.

It took Snape much longer to get a glass of water than Daniel thought was reasonable, but he offered no explanation when he returned. Daniel drank it down gratefully in three huge gulps.

"So did you find anything out?" he asked. "I didn't feel anything, except you being there obviously. Were you even doing anything?"

"We will discuss this upon your return," Snape said, holding his hand out for the glass. "To return to my office, say — "

"Professor Snape's office?" Daniel guessed, getting up grumpily.

"Five points from Slytherin," Snape said tightly. "If you do not learn from detentions, I shall have to find a different punishment."

That wasn't fair at all. Daniel stalked across to the fireplace, and grabbed the box sitting on the mantle. It wouldn't open. Snape swooped across to him, grabbed it and opened it for him. Daniel snatched at the powder, flung it in the fire, and sent himself back to the office.

He didn't quite make it out of the room before Snape emerged from the fireplace after him. "Livingstone," he said. "I am not a patient man."

"Could have fooled me," Daniel said, and darted out.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He didn't really feel up to doing anything. Not finding out about Blaise, not homework, and certainly not interacting in any way with Draco Malfoy. What he needed was something relaxing, maybe some time with Theo, who he hadn't seen all day. Which was odd, now he came to think of it.

He went straight past the entrance to the Slytherin rooms, figuring if he went and had an early dinner, he might liven up enough to be able to talk to people later.

It would have been a good plan, if Draco, Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy weren't all already at dinner, and if Draco didn't look up at exactly the moment Daniel came into sight. He got up suddenly, waving a hand at the others to stay seated, and hurried up to him.

"Come on," he said, grabbing Daniel's arm and pulling him out of the Hall. Once they were in a corridor alone, he let go and stepped back a little, looking him over in some confusion.

"I thought you went for tuition with Snape?" he said carefully.

"I did," Daniel said. "I'm hungry."

"You don't look right," Draco said. "And you have bed hair."

"Huh?" Daniel said, reaching up to smooth it out. "So what?"

Draco looked to be chewing over his words. "Come on," he said, leading him into a nearby classroom. "_Colloportus_," he said, and then, "_Muffliato._"

"What do you want?" Daniel asked, already overexposed to Draco for the day, and dreading more.

"What did you do in your tuition?" Draco asked, sitting on a desk. "Was it helpful?"

"You have to lock me into a classroom for this?" Daniel asked, irritated. "You said you were trying to be nice. Kidnapping isn't nice."

Draco huffed. "I _am _being nice. I don't think you have any idea how nice I am being right now."

"So tell me," Daniel said, giving up and dropping into a seat.

"You're clearly muddled," Draco said, looking at him sternly. "You might not know what that usually means, but I do. Someone's been messing around in your mind."

Daniel laughed. He couldn't help it.

"Look, you went to Snape for tuition, came back three hours later looking like you've just rolled out of bed, and acting all addled. Imagine if Blaise or someone had noticed that, and stop laughing."

Daniel tried to stop laughing. "I think —" he spluttered. "I think if Snape had done what you're thinking, he'd have done rather a better job of it," he said.

"How long were you with Snape, then?" Draco said, face strained. "I'm pretty sure his tuition methods don't usually include naptime."

"We're working on a _mental_ block," Daniel said. "It's _mentally_ exhausting. It was easier lying down."

"You were with Snape all this time," Draco said uneasily.

"Yeah," Daniel said. "Now can I go back to the common room?"

"No," Draco said. "You said you were hungry."

"Why don't you just leave me alone?" Daniel said, getting to his feet.

"I shudder to think what would happen to you if I left you alone like you are now," Draco said, shaking his head. "Let me just —" He waved his wand casually at Daniel a few times. "There," he said. "Now you at least look presentable."

He unlocked the door and waited for Daniel to lead him out of the room. With a long-suffering sigh, Daniel did just that.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

There was a knock at Snape's office door easily half an hour before he expected one. He frowned. Usually, the students knew better than to disturb him in his office without an appointment, and the staff had much more effective ways of contacting him.

He set aside an almost impressive essay written by a third-year Hufflepuff, of all people, and got up to answer the door.

Draco Malfoy was standing there, looking anxious but resolved. "I'm sorry, sir, but I need to talk to you about something," he said formally. "It's important, truly."

"Come in," Snape said. "Sit down."

Malfoy looked suspiciously around the room, and sat down stiffly. "I think someone's messing about with Daniel," he said, nostrils flared. "He seems to think he was with you all afternoon, but he was really out of it. I'm thinking it was a rough memory charm, or maybe some kind of a mind-numbing potion."

"Is that so?" Snape said, intrigued at this new protectiveness. Malfoy was typically fierce in his defence of Crabbe and Goyle, but had always seemed happy to let everyone else go hang.

"Well, yes," Malfoy said, frowning at him. "He came into dinner early looking an absolute mess, and when I talked to him I don't think he was all there. He didn't get better either, I've left him with Millie, but she's not very patient, and doesn't really like him. Can I bring him to see you?"

"What is your interest in this matter?" Snape asked. "There is no great friendship between the two of you."

Malfoy looked across at him. "He's in Slytherin," he said coolly. "We look out for our own."

_You? Since when? _Snape thought skeptically, but kept his mouth shut.

"I told him he should come and see you, but he just laughed at me. He's not acting right."

"He may be ill," Snape pointed out.

"He's not just ill," Malfoy said confidently. "I cast the scanning spell you showed me, it's the first time I've been able to do it, and there was residue, I swear it. It was faint, but that's why I thought just a poorly-cast memory charm. I wasn't sure if potions left that kind of trace, but if they do it could be that as well. I'm sure you can cast it much better than me. Can I bring him in? He's kind of suggestible at the moment, and, well, we sleep with Blaise, so…"

Malfoy was babbling. Between Ernie McMillan's essay, Livingstone's moment of wordless fear, and Malfoy's loss of composure, today was certainly becoming a day to remember.

"Yes, bring him if you think it necessary," Snape said. "But I will speak to him alone."

"I think I should stay," Malfoy said, a slight tremble in his voice. "I mean, he went to see you before it happened, so I think maybe someone else should be here when you see him again."

"Is there something you wish to accuse me of?" Snape said, knowing the answer but needing to hear it to believe it.

"No," Malfoy said, lifting his chin. "I know you wouldn't do that, not after…"

"Good," Snape said, feeling uncommonly warm, even though Malfoy's faith in him was entirely unwarranted. "Fetch Livingstone."

Malfoy nodded briskly, and left the office.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"He said to stay awake," Millicent said, exasperated. "Are you drunk?"

Daniel was feeling awfully sleepy, and Millicent's voice was low and kind of soothing. If he let himself forget she was Millicent, anyway. "Not drunk," he said. "I can choose what I do, they give me good advice."

A thin stream of water hit him right between the eyes. "Draco had better not be gone long," she said, glaring at him. "Where is Theo anyway, I haven't seen him all day. Have you?"

"Nope," Daniel said, wiping his face. "Totally AWOL."

"What? Actually, never mind. I don't ever want you to make sense to me. Just sit there, and be awake. I need to finish this."

"Awake."

"Stay _awake_."

"What is the _matter_ with you? I swear —"

"Daniel?" That voice was different, and one Daniel was always happy to hear.

"Heyyy," he said. "Welcome back."

"Hey," Theo said, sounding puzzled. "What's wrong with him?"

"No idea," Millicent said. "You can have him though, Draco's coming back to collect him soon anyway. I need to find Jo, he said he'd help me with the Charms."

Daniel heard her get up and leave, and felt Theo take her seat. "Daniel, are you okay?" he asked. "Have you been crying?"

"What? No!" Daniel said, sitting up abruptly. "Why would you say that?"

"Your face is wet," Theo said. He grabbed Daniel's chin, and looked at him carefully. "Draco do this?"

Daniel shook his head. "He's looking after me," he said, aware of how absurd the words sounded.

"Come on, let's go downstairs," Theo said. "Why are you sitting around up here?"

Daniel shrugged. "Draco said Millicent had to stay with me. With people. For safety."

"I make myself scarce for just one day," Theo said testily. "And here you are, out of your mind with Draco Malfoy and Millicent Bulstrode 'looking after you'. What the hell's happened?"

Daniel shrugged. He couldn't tell him what really had happened, but if he said about tutoring with Snape, he might react like Draco had. Which reminded him…

"Is it eight o'clock yet?"

"Nearly," Theo said.

"I have to go see Snape, then," Daniel said, getting to his feet.

"Whoa," Theo said, standing with him and putting a hand on his shoulder. "What for?"

"A meeting about Charms," he said, and headed for the doorway. Theo followed him closely, but Daniel knew he wasn't supposed to come. "You don't have to come," he said. "You don't have any problems."

"I'll just see that you get there, then," Theo said. "Was it Blaise who did this?"

Daniel snorted. "Hardly. I didn't even see him."

"You heard him, then? A curse?"

"I mostly heard Daphne, but Blaise was definitely there. She said it was a curse, but wouldn't tell me what. She said it was bleeding."

Draco was coming the other way. "Bleeding?" Theo said, turning Daniel around to face him. "Bleeding where?"

"How should I know, I didn't get to see!" Daniel said, unhappy with the rough treatment from his best friend.

"Daniel!" Draco exclaimed. "Where are you going?"

"He says he has to see Snape," Theo said before Daniel could answer. That was pretty rude. "What's this about bleeding?"

"That wasn't me," Daniel cut in, exasperated, just as Draco exclaimed.

"Bleeding! I didn't see any bleeding."

"Neither did I," Daniel said. "Now I have to go see Snape."

He was about to finish the trip down the corridor, but got distracted by the funny way Theo and Draco were staring at each other. "What?" he said.

"You go on," Draco said. "Go see Snape, he's waiting for you. We'll be outside, if you need us."

"Why would I need you?" Daniel said, puzzled. "I'll just go in."

He walked up the corridor and knocked on Snape's door. As he opened it, he took a brief look at Theo and Draco. They were walking slowly towards him, heads together, talking heatedly, both frowning.

He shouldn't keep Snape waiting, though, so he walked in and closed the door behind him.


	9. Meetings

_Here I thank my friends, whom I shall call "Scott" and "Steph", for reading this as I write it and I guess being my betas, though in a much less official and still very helpful way. Most of the reason I am writing this story so quickly (but nowhere near regularly, I know) is their appreciation for, comments about, and enjoyment of the story. Shout out goes to "Scott", who only this evening made it clear to me that the only alcohol Flitwick could ever be drinking was sherry, and "Steph", whose enthusiasm for Draco Malfoy's personality transplant gave me some eeeeenteresting ideas for down the track._

_Also, everyone who reads this, whether or not you favourite it, follow it, or not, hi, and hope you enjoy. Because I certainly do._

Daniel woke feeling strangely muzzy, and far too hot, under two blankets with the curtains closed around his bed. Feeling suddenly smothered, he sat up so he could stick his head out through the curtain break.

"So what on earth have you done to Draco?" Theo asked as soon as he saw Daniel's head.

Daniel hardly heard him; he'd moved his head way too fast, and his ears were ringing like crazy. "What about Draco?" he asked, closing his eyes and staying perfectly still.

"Why is he acting all big brother over you?" Theo said.

"Dunno," Daniel said, slowly moving back to lie down and dragging his thoughts to Draco Malfoy. "He said he was trying something new. It was _horrible._"

"How are you now?"

"Kind of dizzy," Daniel said, rolling his head around cautiously. "What time is it?"

"Three thirty," Theo said.

Daniel would have sat bolt upright if his brain hadn't been knocking around in his head so much. "In the afternoon?" he asked in disbelief.

"Sure," Theo said. "He actually said you might not wake up until after dinner, so I think this is good news."

"He? He who?"

"Ass," Theo said.

Daniel could hear the smile in his voice. "Hilarious," he said. "Now tell me what's been going on."

"You crashed in the office, he said it would be best not to give you anything else, so we brought you back up here. We told everyone you caught the rough end of a Weasley attack. He wants to see you when you're up, but said not to rush it. He says you'll know why."

That was helpful, but still didn't fill in all the gaps. Like why he'd crashed in the first place. He hesitated to ask, though. It might have because of the Occlumency, which wasn't something he could discuss with Theo.

"Okay," he said. "Thanks."

"Blaise is in the hospital wing, so you've been fine in here," Theo added casually.

"Right. The curse," Daniel said. "How's he holding up?"

Theo made a small suspicious sound. "What curse?" he said.

"Oh, I shouldn't have said that," Daniel said, feeling only a little guilty, and that for Daphne's sake. "I didn't really see anything, I just heard he was cursed."

"Oh," Theo said. "That's what you were talking about before, in the corridor. We had no idea what you meant with the bleeding and everything."

"Right," Daniel said, completely at sea. "How's Blaise holding up?"

"Oh, he's okay," Theo said dismissively. "Pomfrey's got him in hand. Can you get up?"

Daniel sighed. "Don't really want to."

"Go to sleep again if you want," Theo said. "It can only be good for you."

"Homework," Daniel said glumly. "History essay due, I didn't do any yesterday. And I haven't done any Defence work all year."

"Get a pass from Snape," Theo suggested. "Binns won't care, and you don't care about Lupin."

"I should talk to Flitwick, too," Daniel said, thinking aloud. "See if I can skip Charms practicals."

"He won't let you," Theo said. "He'll give you something else to do, maybe, but he's not giving you only half Charms. He's not like that."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel insisted on wandering around on his own to talk to Flitwick, and to Snape. But before that, he walked up to the hospital wing, to talk to Blaise.

Daphne was beside his bed, slouching in her chair, eyes half-closed. She held one of Blaise's hands in her lap and was absently stroking his fingers.

"Hey," Daniel said softly. "How are you?"

She blinked at him, looking owlish. "How am _I_?" she asked.

Daniel shrugged. "You look tired."

"And you don't care how he is," she said grimly.

"It doesn't really bother me, no," Daniel said. "Can I sit here?"

She gripped Blaise's hand a little tighter, and nodded. Daniel looked around for a chair, and dragged one over. "Is the curse lifted?"

Her mouth twisted unpleasantly, and she shook her head. "Pomfrey says it might take a few days."

"Do you know who did it?" Daniel asked, keeping his voice low.

"Why do you want to know?" she asked, eyes glinting in anger. "You ready with a bouquet?"

"Hardly," Daniel said, determined not to take offence. "I don't have much love for corridor cursers."

She sighed. "I know," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Has he woken up?"

She shook her head.

"Sorry," Daniel said.

"He's not _dead_," she said fiercely. "And he's not _dying._ Don't you dare say sorry to me."

A sleepy noise came from the bed. Daniel got up quickly without looking, and wandered to the window on the other side of the room. He looked down at the grounds to distract him from the quiet conversation coming from the bed.

There were students scattered all over, taking advantage of the weak afternoon sunlight to study, chat or just get some air. He spotted Dean and Seamus lying a short distance from Brown and Patil the Gryffindor, but couldn't tell what they were doing. He glanced across to the forest, thinking back to the dog, and its familiarity with the school grounds.

"Livingstone," Blaise said stonily. Daniel turned from the window to see him sitting up in his bed, hand still clasped in Daphne's. "Daphne said you helped yesterday, so I'm very grateful to you." The words looked like they cost him; he grimaced and turned away.

Daniel headed over, after glancing at Daphne to check that she didn't disapprove. "No problem," he said.

When Blaise turned back to him, his expression was open and artless. "I don't know anything about Caden," he said simply. "I just had a dream where you said it to Snape, and he treated it like a secret. I don't even know what it means. I thought it was interesting and something I could hold over you."

"Oh," Daniel said, bemused. "Thanks for telling me."

"It's only decent," he said, face closed again. "Now can you please go, and give us some peace."

Daniel stared at him for a moment longer, then looked to Daphne.

"Get Pomfrey, please," she said. "Then go do whatever it is you do."

Daniel did as she asked.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Flitwick was next, but Daniel didn't have an appointment to see him, or much of an idea what he usually did on the weekends. So he went up to the man's office, then into the Charms classroom, and then down to the staffroom, where he found the door open and McGonagall and Babbling drinking tea together in a companionable silence. McGonagall looked like she might be marking at the same time; she was reading something with a small frown, and had a stack of parchment piled up by her right hand.

"Do you know where Flitwick is?" he asked from the doorway, trying to think of somewhere else he might find him.

"_Professor_ Flitwick, Mr. Livingstone," McGonagall said, mouth pursed in disapproval.

"Yeah," Daniel said. "I looked in his office, and in the classroom, but I don't really know how I can find him. I need to ask him something."

"You will need to make an appointment," McGonagall said dismissively.

"I don't know how to find him to _make_ an appointment," Daniel said, holding back from rolling his eyes. Snape might, _might_ allow that, in a good mood, but McGonagall was stiff as a plank, and a whole lot more touchy. Especially when it came to Slytherins.

"It might be easiest if you speak to him around dinnertime," Babbling said pleasantly. "He's not always in the castle during the day on weekends."

McGonagall narrowed her eyes slightly at her colleague, then turned back to Daniel. "You need to show a great deal more respect for the adults around you, Mr. Livingstone," she said sternly. "To do otherwise would be detrimental to both you and your house."

"I'll keep that in mind," Daniel said, turning to leave.

"I don't think that's the way to —" he heard, Babbling's voice fading out as he walked quickly down the corridor.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

There was no reason for him to tell Livingstone, Snape decided. He had been so adamant about secrecy earlier, that to reveal the truth would seriously undermine the trust he had so bizarrely given his head of house. Dumbledore had assured Snape that Livingstone would not remember, so things could simply remain as they had been.

He wasn't feeling guilty. Just because the boy trusted him not to do certain things didn't make it a betrayal when he did them. He had, after all, given no promises beyond _I will do as I think best,_ and that was exactly what he had done. He had acted to save Livingstone's mind, and if the boy couldn't accept that, then he wasn't worth any pangs Snape might be feeling.

It helped his composure considerably when the presumptuous boy opened the door without knocking, and strode in without so much as looking at Snape.

"Go back and knock," he said sternly.

Livingstone caught himself about halfway across the room, turned smoothly, returned to the closed door and knocked quietly. "May I come in?" he asked softly.

"Come and sit down," Snape instructed him. "I trust you are feeling better?"

"Better than what?" the boy asked bluntly. "Last thing I remember is that blank room, casting some stuff. Trying, anyway. Then I woke up all funny like a day later, and here I am."

"After our Occlumency session, you became exhausted, and though I roused you briefly, you needed an extended sleep to return wholly to your senses," Snape said, entirely truthfully.

"Will that happen every time?" Livingstone asked, looking disgruntled. "It's an awfully long amount of time to lose."

"I have reason to believe that this issue can be cleared up more quickly than I had originally predicted," Snape said. "The procedure may be exhausting, but it should not occur too often."

"So you found out some stuff, then?" Livingstone asked, perking up. "You know how to fix it?"

"Yes," Snape said.

"Theo said Draco was helping me," the boy said casually. "Did you make him?"

"I believe he was concerned for you," Snape said, watching him closely. "He was the first to identify your vulnerable state, and to take steps to shield you."

"Oh," Livingstone said, clearly as mystified by Malfoy's behaviour as Snape was. "That was nice of him," he continued inanely. "Did you know Blaise is in the hospital wing?"

A pointed look was all that was necessary to answer such a ridiculous question.

"What was the curse?"

"That is most definitely not your concern," Snape told him.

"Can you write me a pass for my homework?" the boy said, for all the world like it logically followed from his previous questions.

Snape waited.

"Will you please write me a pass for my homework?" Livingstone said through gritted teeth.

He was tempted to wait for a sir as well, but instead listened to the part of him that knew he shouldn't push the boy too far. "What homework do you have?" he asked, pulling out some parchment and hovering his quill over the inkwell.

"History essay, and some Defence," Livingstone said. "I should be able to finish the Charms this evening, and I'll have time tomorrow to catch up for Tuesday."

"What reason would you like me to put?" Snape asked, mulling over what might be the best thing to write.

From the look on the boy's face, that was a courtesy he had not been expecting. "Um, maybe that I had to work on this block thing, they can't deny that's true. You don't have to say anything specific, do you?"

"I do not," Snape said. Before he could put quill to parchment, his Floo flared and Dumbledore was in the office.

Livingstone jolted horribly, then his face closed up completely and he stared at the wall past Snape's head.

"Severus," the old man said, nodding to him. "And Mr. Livingstone, I am pleased to see you so well recovered."

Face still impassive, the boy's eyes flicked briefly to Snape, then returned to the wall. "Thank you," he said. "I'm just getting a note."

"Ah, still thinking of your schoolwork," Dumbledore said, waving his wand to summon a chair, and sitting gracefully. "That is admirable."

Livingstone's mouth tightened, and he stared at Dumbledore suspiciously. "What else would I be thinking of?" he asked, barely suppressing his anxiety.

Those damnable blue eyes twinkled, and Snape felt an extraordinary urge to put himself between his student and the headmaster. Whether to protect one from the other, or simply to prevent the revelation hovering in the room, he wasn't sure. He held himself in his seat, reminding himself of the many reasons he should allow this exchange to proceed without his interference.

"Lemon drop?" Dumbledore said, and Snape's wand hand started to itch fiercely.

Livingstone's eyes were granite by this point. He shook his head slowly. _Furiously. _"I was taught never to take candy from old men," he said with a voice so thick Snape barely recognised it. "All _kinds_ of bad things can happen."

Snape came to a decision at that point, and quickly scribbled two notes: one for Binns, and one for Lupin. He held them out to Livingstone, who tore his eyes away from the headmaster and took them without ever looking at Snape.

"We need to speak to you about what is to come," Dumbledore said, and Snape caught a hint of hostility in his tone. The barest hint, and well-covered with compassion, but enough to set Snape wondering at exactly how much Dumbledore had picked up from the boy's mind.

Livingstone was silent. His face was slowly draining of colour.

"Livingstone," Snape said sharply, not wanting the boy to pass out in his presence, _again. _

"_Snape_," was the pained rejoinder.

"_Professor _Snape," Dumbledore said, and Snape could have slapped him.

"Yeah, he _professes_ loads of things," Livingstone muttered, and got to his feet. "I need to go and do my Charms homework," he said. "I'm just admirable that way." Snape couldn't help but admire his control as he walked calmly to the door, and closed it softly after him.

"Livingstone is not Potter," Snape found himself saying to break the bubble of quiet that had formed after Livingstone's exit. "You will not find it so easy to mold his thinking." He carefully didn't mention his own failure to make more than a slight dent in the boy's casual insolence.

"Oh Severus," Dumbledore sighed. "Can you never trust me to have good intentions towards your Slytherins?"

"No," Snape said bluntly. "I cannot."

"Yet you ask me in to assist when clearly that is the last thing he would wish you to have done," the headmaster said innocently.

"The situation was beyond my skill," Snape said grudgingly. "It was you, or St. Mungo's."

"You have acted very rashly in this matter, Severus," Dumbledore said. "I trust you are aware of the strictures in place regarding mental magic on those as young as Mr. Livingstone?"

"I am," Snape said. "In none of the cases I came across did any child have such an extreme reaction simply to another's presence, though perhaps I did discount the potential dangers a little too quickly. I am … grateful for your assistance."

Dumbledore smiled gently at him. That was never a good sign.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Twilight was deepening when Daniel finally made it out of the castle. The air had a bit of bite to it, which explained why everyone seemed to have gone inside. He stood there for a moment, letting himself breathe.

He could feel his calm slipping despite his fervent efforts to keep his thoughts contained. He started to walk, letting his mind dwell on the rhythm of his steps, and the cool still air.

He reached the spot behind Hagrid's hut, and stopped in surprise. He was pretty sure he hadn't intended to come here, but in the end it seemed as good a place as any to gather himself.

It wasn't the end of the world, to have Dumbledore involved. After all, the man had been his parents' second choice for someone to go to for help. And it wasn't like _they'd_ ever make stupid mistakes that would end up hurting him and crushing his magic.

Daniel sat down in a hurry. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and stared at it. It wasn't worth it, he decided. Magic could be pretty cool, but it came with Dumbledores, and Dark Lords, and Occlumency, and homework, and curses, and crazy pureblooded boys with split personalities.

Not worth it. He chucked his wand down the hill weakly, determined not to give it any more effort than it deserved.

He watched as the light from the hut went off, and saw Hagrid trudging up to the castle, lantern in hand. At least he could still do a Lumos, he realised, feeling a sudden twinge of pity for the huge man. It didn't last for long, not when he remembered the bizarre effect being attacked in his class had had on Draco bloody Malfoy.

He didn't know what to do. Going back to the castle was out of the question, at least for now. They were all waiting for him there: Snape, Dumbledore, Flitwick, Draco, Blaise. He could maybe deal with one or two of them. Maybe if he did something really, really Muggle then Draco and Blaise could hate him normally again, and then he'd only have to deal with teachers, who were usually a lot easier to handle.

He stared up at the hut, letting his thoughts fade away with the light. He got cold, of course, but somehow chattering teeth and trembling limbs didn't seem that important any more.

Then, a wash of warmth spread over him so unexpectedly it made him jump and nearly start rolling down the hill. By the time he had caught himself and could look around, the dog was trotting up the hill towards him, his wand in its jaws, barely visible in the dim light.

"Don't be ridiculous," he said weakly. "You can't do that."

It stopped about twenty feet away and panted loudly. When Daniel just stared, it turned and bounded off, then spun back and stared at him again.

"I'm not a complete idiot," Daniel told it grimly. "Dogs who can cast spells are not dogs to be romping with in the dark. However adorably they might be able to whine."

It padded softly up to him, still with his wand held loosely in its jaws.

"Give it," Daniel commanded, holding out a hand.

It panted louder, and the wand fell to the ground. Its tail began to wag slowly.

"What the fuck do you _want _from me?" Daniel said, feeling an utter fool for losing it at a _dog, _of all things. "And don't pretend you're just a dog, because it's obviously not true."

The dog barked softly, picked up the wand again and sat watching Daniel attentively.

"Not in the _mood_," he groaned, and lay down on his back, closing his eyes firmly. "Had a bad day."

"I've had a bad twelve years," a hoarse voice said from right next to him. "I win."

He sat up and, impossibly, locked eyes with Sirius Black. He looked like a corpse, far worse than he had in the mugshots. Sirius Black, mass-murderer, right hand to the Dark Lord, was sitting right next to him, and had his wand.

"I'm a pureblood, you know," Daniel said quickly. "And no friend of Potter's."

The terrible smile that spread over the man's face was right out of a horror movie. "Is that so?" he said, fingering Daniel's wand reverently.

"Well, yeah," Daniel said, forcing himself not to get up and run. Escape was impossible. "I hardly know the guy, got no reason to like him, or dislike him, much."

"What about Ron Weasley?" the man asked, eyes shiny with fervour. "Do you get on with Weasley?"

"Weasley?" Daniel said taken aback. "What's Weasley got to do with it?"

"Follow me," Black said, and stood up slowly. "I don't need to tell you what I will do if you try to run."

Daniel stood, but couldn't make himself walk. All of his choices were total insanity. Continuing to stand there, disobeying an armed Sirius Black, was possibly the most insane of them all.

"You could be dead," Black said harshly. "You won't be unless you do something incredibly stupid. So follow me, and we'll talk."

Feeling light-headed, Daniel started to walk towards the forest, hating the feeling of his own wand being held on him from behind. "So what's with the whole dog act?" he said, unable to bear the silence they were walking in. "That softens us up so you can talk us around?"

"Wait a little longer," Black croaked from behind him.

He'd really been very mild, for an unhinged mass-murderer. Considerate, almost. But then, the Dark Lord had charm, and it made sense he'd value it in his followers.

Daniel let them get about twenty feet into the forest, and stopped. "How's this for you?" he asked, turning to face the man he supposed was his captor. "It's good for me."

"Fine," Black said, staring at him intently. "How well do you know Weasley?"

"The dog thing," Daniel reminded him. "An answer for an answer."

The man actually growled.

"I don't know Weasley at all," Daniel said quickly. "He's Potter's best mate, but all I know is he's downright unpleasant."

"I want his rat," Black said, voice dark. "I want you to get me his rat."

"Hungry, are you?" Daniel said before he could stop himself.

Black laughed, a sudden loud bark that had Daniel jumping and looking around himself nervously. "You could say that," he said with an intense, wild-eyed grin.

Unless there was something Daniel was missing, the man was a complete idiot for thinking this was any kind of a plan. "I'll have to think of a way of getting to it," he said slowly. "I'm never going to get a password into their rooms, so it might take a while."

"How long?" Black asked, licking his lips absently.

Daniel shrugged. "I'll have to find out where he takes it," he said. "And a way to escape notice." He wanted to ask for his wand back, but held back. He had to have the situation exactly right before he could risk something like that. "Do you have any tips? You must have thought about it."

Black shook his head, wild black hair flopping madly around his face. "Our methods wouldn't mesh."

"I have a suggestion," Daniel said, trying to hold back his excitement. "Just an idea, to help us trust each other." He hoped that bringing up trust wouldn't make Black realise that his power over Daniel ended as soon as Daniel was back in the castle. This way, maybe, they would be on the same page from the beginning, which might limit any murderous rages Black might feel were appropriate later.

"Don't you talk to me about trust," Black said softly, surprising Daniel with the clarity of his anger.

"I'm just saying," Daniel said, before he could even plan what he was going to say. "If we both get something out of this, then it's more likely to work for both of us."

Black folded his arms across his chest, Daniel's wand still clenched tightly in his right hand. "You're a Slytherin, aren't you?" he said contemptuously.

"Of course," Daniel said, not sure why that should be an issue. "Anyone else would have run screaming from someone like you."

"Someone like me," Black repeated thoughtfully. "Of course."

"Did you think I wasn't?" Daniel asked, trying to find his footing on this new path.

Black shook his head briskly, a behaviour far more dog than human. "You reminded me of someone, that's all," he said shortly. "Go on."

"I want you to teach me Animagus transformation," Daniel said boldly. "And while you do that, I'll work on Weasley's rat. I can bring you food, too." He stopped, before he could overplay his hand.

"You won't be able to learn it," Black said. "You're too young."

"What's it to you?" Daniel said, delighted at Black's choice of argument. "If I can't learn it, then I can't learn it. But so long as you're teaching me, I'll be working on my side of the bargain. I'm good at Transfiguration, anyway. It's easy."

"What year are you?" Black asked.

"Third," Daniel said. "And I want to learn it now."

"It took me three years," Black said. "And once I have Peter, I'll be leaving."

"You can teach me how to teach myself," Daniel said, damned if he was going to let this opportunity completely pass him by. "Point me in the right directions, warn me about stuff. And then once I bring you Peter, and you leave, you can help me keep your secret by answering questions by owl and stuff."

"You're making a lot of presumptions, here," Black said.

_So are you_, Daniel thought. "So tell me I'm wrong," he said.

"_Lumos_," Black said, his face lighting up along with the wand. "I can't tell you how good it is to cast even the simplest spell, after so long," he said. The glow made his face even more skull-like, lighting it up eerily like kids did with torches at sleepovers.

Daniel got a sour taste in his mouth at that, but the last thing he could do with Black was admit his own situation with casting spells. "Azkaban for twelve years," he said instead, letting himself reflect on that properly, as well as wondering what it meant that Black had ignored his challenge.

"And here you are assuming I care at all about trust, and establishing some kind of symbiotic relationship," Black said, shaking his head. "Not very Slytherin of you at all."

"Well, it's not very Gryffindor to force a thirteen-year-old kid to do your dirty work for you," Daniel retorted, unable to let a crack like that go by.

"I'm not forcing you, you idiot," Black snapped. "You're practically talking me into it."

So, not a complete moron after all. That was comforting, in a way. As well as terrifying.

"Well, I want to learn Animagus," Daniel said. "Nobody else is going to teach me, and you're right here. And seems like you can keep a damn good secret, as well."

The man hopped from emotion to emotion like a demented grasshopper. Now he was looking mortally wounded, almost struggling for breath.

Daniel gave him a moment. He clearly needed one.

"Can I have my wand back?" he asked after a while, trying to sound as young as he could.

Black's eyes jolted to him, looking surprisingly young himself. "Yes, of course," he said, handing it over, eyes still lost in some distant memory.

"Thank you," Daniel said, pocketing it quickly. "I'll see what I can find out about the rat. When should we meet again?"

"I don't really work to a timetable," Black said, lip curling. "You tell me."

"Friday afternoon," Daniel suggested. "My friends have classes after three, but my time is free."

"You can't keep coming here all the time, especially not in broad daylight," Black said disdainfully. "Come on Friday, and show me you've made progress, and I can give you a couple of safer places, that other students don't know about."

This was going incredibly well. _Too well_, part of him thought, but he'd take too well over not at all any day. "Okay," he said. "Do you want me to bring you some food? That's no problem."

Black appraised him steadily. "That would be handy," he said. "But you understand you'll have to lend me your wand so I can check it's safe."

And he had the nerve to take cracks at Slytherin. "Of course," Daniel said.

They stared at each other for a moment. As Daniel watched, Black's pale grey eyes grew darker, and his upper lift lifted in a silent growl. "You will not forget the rat," he said, words holding a dire threat.

The temptation was there, to ask what the hell was so special about a dumb rat. Weasley's rat, of all things. And, he wanted to know how he should start preparing to learn Animagus. But he'd handled it right so far, and things could only get worse, the more he said.

"I won't forget the rat," he said, nodding. "But you understand, as a Slytherin, it's not an easy task you've set me. I mean, Goyle's rat barely leaves the Slytherin rooms at all, I've only heard of Weasley's second hand. Bit Goyle, as a matter of fact. I'll see what I can do."

"Tell nobody," Black said. "And this will work out right for both of us, like you said."

"Nice to meet you," Daniel said, unable to keep the sardonic smile off his face. Then, feeling like something more needed to be said, he spoke again. "And thanks for yesterday. Even if you were doing it to make me like you more, it still made me feel a whole lot better." He thought it had been yesterday, anyway. The days were starting to blur together, and having slept through almost an entire day didn't help at all.

"I did it for myself," Black said carelessly. "But it's good it helped you."

"Cool," Daniel said. "I guess I'll see you later."

As he watched, Black's skin started to melt and darken, and his body flooded downwards and out, and then the dog was standing there, panting lightly, tail wagging and looking up at him.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He sauntered into the Great Hall, full of confidence in a way he hadn't been for years. It was quite late, so there weren't many students left at the Slytherin table, but all his friends were there. As in, Theo. Draco, Crabbe and Goyle were there too, a couple of seats down. "Hey," he said, slipping in between Theo and Crabbe. "How's the weekend?"

Crabbe grunted, and turned slightly away from him.

"You're looking better," Draco said as Theo just clapped him on the shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm good," he said. "Feeling great. I think I might cut my hair."

He looked up at the teachers' table. Dumbledore was there, gazing down at the Gryffindor table, of course. Snape was glaring at his shepherd's pie, and McGonagall was listening to Flitwick, who was talking animatedly and waving his fork around in enthusiasm.

He scarfed down his meal, watching for any sign that Flitwick's story was winding up. When the little man set his cutlery neatly on his plate and nodded to McGonagall, Daniel stood up. "I've got to talk to Flitwick," he said to Theo, before hurrying up to the table.

"Could I talk to you for a bit?" he said, as he and Flitwick reached the end of his table together. "I couldn't find you earlier, but I need to talk about class."

"By all means," Flitwick said, nodding affably. Daniel could smell the hint of sherry on his breath, and was immediately jealous. "Let's go to my office, I have half an hour I could give you."

"Great," Daniel said, falling into step beside him. "How was your weekend?"

"Ah, nothing to write home about," Flitwick said airily. "I consider it a success, since I finished all my marking. That doesn't happen every weekend, certainly."

"Good for you," Daniel said heartily. "I haven't finished my homework, but I'll do it this evening, hopefully. I was kind of sick for most of the weekend, but I'm pretty sure I understand all the stuff we're doing in class now."

"Excellent," Flitwick said, holding the door of his office open. Daniel walked past, him to sit in the high-backed chair in front of the desk. "Now, what did you need to talk to me about?"

"Charms practicals," Daniel said. "I can't do them, so I thought maybe I could do something extra in that time, maybe a side project or something."

Flitwick regarded him thoughtfully. Daniel congratulated himself on taking Theo's advice. Flitwick was looking immensely pleased.

"Do you have anything specific in mind?" he asked.

Daniel shook his head. "Not really," he said. "Charms isn't much of an area of interest for me. Considering what I can and can't do, I thought maybe just a research project."

"What _are_ your areas of interest?" Flitwick asked.

"I like mixing everything together," Daniel said. "That's why it bugs me to get stuck on Charms, because then none of my experiments really work, except for pure Transfiguration. Maybe it will come easier to me if I kind of work Charms within Transfiguration, you know?"

"This is not a chance for you to experiment with Transfiguration under the guise of Charms," Flitwick scolded him mildly.

_Of course it is_, Daniel thought, putting on a bit of an abashed smile. "I just kind of find myself in Transfiguration, whatever subject I'm doing," he said. "I don't mean to." Maybe he could ask McGonagall how the animal was decided. If you could choose it, he could spend time thinking about that. Maybe he should just try some self-transformation like he'd seen the upper years doing. Or maybe he should try to do things wandlessly.

He should have asked Black more questions. Friday was five whole days away, five days he could have been working on something. He supposed he could look into the rat thing, since Black had kind of made it a condition.

"Maybe wandless magic," he said aloud, realising how long Flitwick had been waiting quietly. With a jolt, he realised that if Black was an Animagus, then he could probably do other kinds of wandless magic just as well. That was why he had returned Daniel's wand so thoughtlessly. He'd known it made no difference.

That was a sobering thought.

Maybe Black had cast something silently, or wandlessly, to make Daniel do his will. Maybe if he tried telling someone that Sirius Black was an Animagus, and in the school right now, his tongue would fall down his throat and he'd choke to death. Maybe Black had done a whole bunch of stuff, then wiped Daniel's memory of it, but there were still instructions in his subconscious somewhere that he couldn't help but carry out.

"Perhaps something a little more relevant to your studies," Flitwick said. "Wandless magic is rarely achieved in a wizard's school years. I would have trouble justifying letting you use class time for such a pursuit."

"I don't really have any ideas," Daniel said. "I mostly wanted to check that you wouldn't make me keep smashing my head against the brick wall, you know."

Flitwick nodded in understanding. "I will bring some books to tomorrow's class," he said. "You might like to go through them and see if anything appeals to you."

"If I fail Charms, do I fail third year?" Daniel asked, unable to hold the question in any longer.

"Professor Snape assures me your difficulties will not last the year," Flitwick said. "I think we will be able to work out a modified schedule for you, and you should be in no danger of failing."

"Yes, then," Daniel said shortly, disappointed that Flitwick hadn't just come out and said so. "Well, that's good to know I guess." He got up. "I'll do my best."

"I'm sure that you will, Mr. Livingstone," Flitwick said easily. "I don't doubt your ability, and neither should you."

"Okay," Daniel said, feeling better. "Thanks."

"Anything you need," Flitwick said, leaning back in his chair as Daniel headed for the door.

"You could ask your housemates to be a little less harsh with Professor Hagrid," he added suddenly, looking almost anxious when Daniel swung his head around to look at him. "Goodness knows that man has been through enough recently."

Daniel shrugged. "He's not the only one," he said, and closed the door behind him.


	10. Discoveries

"You know what Blaise told me today in the hospital wing?" Theo said, sitting cross-legged on his bed and pulling off his shirt. "He told me he admires my composure."

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged glances, and before Daniel could help himself, so did he and Draco. The blond boy had been looking even more smug than usual, but at Theo's words his face fell a little.

"He told us he wished he had friends like us when we went in," Crabbe said, frowning fiercely and waving his wand to clear all the junk off his bed. "It sounded like he was trying to butter us up for something."

"Maybe he's just spooked," Daniel said. "After being cursed, and all. Like Draco, after Buckbeak nearly killed him."

Theo exhaled sharply, and Crabbe and Goyle glowered. Daniel grinned. "Just saying," he said innocently.

"He told _me _that he thinks I'll always be ahead of him socially, and he's constantly afraid I'll turn against him," Draco said, ignoring Daniel completely and sitting back against his pillow triumphantly.

"Wow," Theo said. "And I was all pleased with my little compliment."

"Must have been some curse," Goyle said, shaking his head.

Draco rolled his eyes. "Haven't you people ever heard of Denunci Adoperta Tua?"

Crabbe and Goyle shrugged at each other, and Daniel couldn't speak Latin to save his life, but Theo was looking uncomfortable.

"For goodness' sake Goyle, you've seen it cast!" Draco said in exasperation. "Remember, the spy the Crackens planted a few years ago, and how loyal they've been to us since?"

Goyle squinched up his face in thought, but shook his head.

"That's a pretty nasty curse," Theo said, hugging his pillow to his chest. "Popular with the old crowd, but there can't be any of them here."

"What is it?" Daniel asked, looking at Theo curiously.

"Oh, it's a compulsion," Draco said, waving a hand in the air vaguely. "Roughly translates to 'declare your secrets'."

"It's the countercurse that's the nasty bit," Theo said, voice choking up.

"Oh yes, you were there too, I'd forgotten," Draco said. "The inventor designed the countercurse to be even worse than the curse. Smart idea, that, since it often ends up extending the curse much longer. Nobody wants to be cured."

"Oh, I remember now," Goyle said suddenly. "He begged for us _not _to remove the curse." He chuckled softly. "Funny, that mustn't happen very often."

"It wasn't funny," Theo said, nostrils white. "It was horrific. I'm going to sleep." He tugged his curtains around sharply, disappearing from view.

"So highly-strung," Draco said regretfully. "He was fun when he was little, too. Such a shame."

"What's the counter?" Daniel asked, fighting back delight that Blaise was finally in real trouble. The gleeful feeling made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Oh, just ReddoCensuram," Draco said. "That part's straightforward. Ends the compulsion."

"Painfully," Goyle said. "It sounds like it rips their mind to shreds. He screamed for fully five minutes."

"It leaves trails of memory, that's the worst part," Draco said. "When they so much as think of keeping a secret, they remember the moment of the countercurse, and all the pain involved. Fades over time, but never completely. I'm surprised any students could even cast it; it's an immensely difficult spell."

"A real enemy for Blaise, then," Crabbe said.

"I'll say," Draco said emphatically. "Good thing he never let any of us really become his friends. I'll see you all in the morning, then."

With that, his curtain was closed and he was gone. Crabbe and Goyle closed up soon after, and Daniel was left sitting on his bed staring thoughtfully at Blaise's corner, trying to decide how he felt.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

At breakfast, the investigation began.

"I was thinking of getting a familiar," Daniel said to the table at large, but mostly to Draco and Theo. "But I don't really get how the whole thing works. Are they just pets, or is there some magic thing, as well?"

Theo shrugged. He'd been quiet, even for him, ever since last night's conversation. Draco didn't seem to mind taking the stage.

"It's mostly pets," he said. "Familiars have been out of fashion for at least a century. It's too much of a risk for the wizard, you see, they have to work all kinds of protective spells over it. Some people like to have an animal running around for effect, but it's a pointless tradition, really. A little demeaning." Pansy nodded wisely from her seat next to Crabbe.

"What were you thinking of getting?" Goyle asked, a little self-consciously. Daniel could count the number of times Goyle or Crabbe had addressed him directly on his fingers.

Daniel shrugged, hiding his smile. Maybe that was changing, now. "Maybe a rat," he said. "They're pretty smart, and I like Khan."

Goyle almost smiled at him. "Rats are good," he said. "They're way more friendly than cats, that's for sure."

"A friend of mine had a rat in primary school," Daniel said. Then, realising who he was talking to, he elaborated. "That's like a school for little kids, up to about twelve, where you learn reading and writing and maths and things."

"Do all Muggle children learn exactly the same things, then, all together?" Draco asked scornfully. "That seems a strange way to go about things."

The conversation was heading in completely the wrong direction, and there was only about fifteen minutes left until they had class. It would take well over ten years for Draco to ever understand anything other than an aristocratic, magical lifestyle. "Yeah," Daniel said shortly. "But that's not the point."

"What about the really stupid ones?" Pansy asked.

That was absolutely not a topic he wanted to discuss with anybody. Of all the times for Draco to take an interest in the Muggle world.

"Do you know of anyone in the school who has a true familiar?" he asked, half to Draco and half to Goyle.

"No," Draco said, just as Goyle nodded.

"Filch," he said.

"_Filch?_" Draco said, putting down his goblet with a thud. "He's a Squib, Goyle. Surely even you have noticed that."

Goyle shrugged. "I know," he said. "But it's obvious."

Draco stared at him for a moment, then nodded. "I suppose it is," he conceded.

"Dumbledore, too," Goyle added.

Daniel didn't even want to think about Dumbledore. "But no students," he said. "Everybody's pets are just that. Pets."

Draco looked at him oddly. "Yes," he said. "You shouldn't try getting a true familiar," he said. "No way a third-year can protect one properly."

Well, that simplified things. Weasley's rat was just a pet rat. It would be easier to get, and be pretty much useless in Black's hands. "I guess not," he said. "Is Daphne coming to class?"

"I expect so," Draco said. "She doesn't really have a proper excuse to miss it."

"What's she going to do without Blaise?" Pansy asked, face solemn.

"She'll be fine," Daniel said, annoyed. "She is her own person, you know."

"_Someone's _going to move in while Blaise is down, sounds like," Crabbe muttered, eyes fixed on his plate. He copped a few glares for that, but Daniel doubted very much they were all for the same reason.

"That's ridiculous," Pansy said. "Daphne has standards, after all."

"Yes, if only we could choose our housemates," Draco said mildly. "We up for Charms?"

Pansy stood quickly, and took his arm as they walked along. Crabbe and Goyle went to follow them, and Daniel could have sworn that Goyle had given him a pleasant kind of a look, of shared exasperation but also a shared understanding. Crabbe, of course, had ignored him completely.

"Let's go," Daniel said, poking Theo's shoulder. "You shouldn't dwell on the painful, you know. You hide it away, and you do fun things instead."

Theo sighed heavily and stood up. "I know," he said. "Let's go."

Maybe now, he could get away with annoying Draco to cheer Theo up. The old methods should still work, it wasn't like Draco was a whole different person. It just seemed that way because he apparently liked Daniel now. Didn't mean Daniel liked him. He could still do whatever the hell he wanted.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Variations in wand movement wasn't that bad a research project, Daniel decided as they left Charms. He could probably curve in some wandless stuff, and it might even be useful on its own merits. He could even practise it, and everything. Then, when he could do spells again, he'd take them all by surprise.

He had four hours until Defence, two of which had to be spent in the History classroom. So he spent the lunch hour in the library, looking up books on wandwork, and on living-to-living Transfiguration. At ten to midday, he hurriedly checked out _Total Transformations: A Beginner's Guide to Self-Transfiguration_, _Fang to Feather: Living Transfigurations Made Easy_ and _Swishes, Flicks and Curlicues: A Spellcaster's Manual_, and ran to History.

He arrived a few minutes late, but Binns was only up to Seamus on the register, having apparently collected the essay beforehand. Daniel looked around to find Theo but Draco caught his eye and shook his head. Daniel frowned. It wasn't like Theo to miss a class, even History.

He ignored the seat near Draco, and sat by himself on one of the tables up the front. He didn't see why people avoided the front in History, it wasn't like Binns even noticed there were students in the room once he'd started on one of his lectures.

Daniel answered to his name when Binns called it, opened _Fang to Feather_, and started to read.

About two chapters in, a note flew onto his desk and sat there quivering at him, making him lose his grip on the concept of core transition, which he had just been starting to wrap his head around.

_never knew you were such a swot_, Draco had written. _working in history? next thing you'll actually be attending defense this afternoon. I might faint from shock._

Daniel took a deep breath. He flicked his fingers up over his shoulder in a two-fingered salute, and tried to fix his mind back on the Transfiguration.

_how very disrespectful of you, _the next one said. _I should tell binns. why are you sitting up there, anyway? Crabbe saved you a seat and everything__. __want to bug potter? C&G never have any good ideas._

_Bug Potter, stop bugging me_, Daniel scrawled on the back, and held the paper up between the same two fingers. It was promptly ripped away from him, and he returned to his book.

He probably didn't even have to learn core transition, for Animagus. The whole point was that the wizard stayed himself. It must be some kind of modified version. He'd ask Black, he supposed. He switched to _Total Transformations_, and managed to ignore Draco's next note for a full three minutes, at which point it started jumping around and hitting him in the face.

_misery guts_, it said. Daniel even turned it over, but that was all. Not even worth the trouble of sending the note.

He spent most of the rest of the lesson with his wand in one hand, and the other hand sitting splayed on the desk, trying some simple exercises he found in the back of the book. Fingernails were easy, he found. Actual fingers were less so. It took him about twenty minutes, but eventually he managed to change a finger into what looked like a wonky kind of a raptor's talon. He sat back in satisfaction and tapped it against the desk, wondering if he'd have to understand the innards of the animal he was going to change into. After a few taps the form fell away, but it had been more than he'd been expecting to be able to do.

He put his wand back in his bag, and stared at his hand thoughtfully. Fingernails were easiest. He fixed the feel of the talon in his mind, and tapped the same finger slowly against the desk, trying to connect the motion to the change. It had worked the other way, after all.

After a while he could feel something in the finger he'd changed, short sharp vibrations, but nothing looked different. He kept the hand still, and tore his mind out of the trance he had been in. That did nothing to make the finger feel any more normal.

His nail was darkening, he realised, and getting longer. And he wasn't even concentrating on it. In a sudden panic, he practically fell out of his chair to get to his bag, pull his wand out and set it back to rights. He heard some smothered laughter and muttering behind him.

Turning to see the people behind him would only make it worse. At least Binns hadn't faltered in his lecture. He got back onto his chair, flexed his left hand carefully, and put his wand on the desk where he could grab it in case of a relapse.

_enjoy your fit? _Draco sent, and he got a _woke me up, wanker_ from Seamus, and a _wow, something happened in history. amazing _from Terry. They just made him grin, though. It was going to work. That was what mattered.

When Binns came smoothly to a halt and dismissed the class, Daniel went up to him quickly before he could glide away through the wall, and held up Snape's note for him to read.

"Yes, all right, Gladstone," he said vaguely. "I shall expect it next lesson."

"Good," Daniel said, and went back to collect his things. To his amusement, he saw Draco, Terry, Seamus and Dean waiting at his desk. Corner was waiting for Terry, and Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy were waiting for Draco, looking furious. Seamus and Dean were just standing there looking between the waiting Ravenclaw and Slytherins, grinning.

"Hello," Daniel told his posse. "Are you here to carry my stuff?"

"Nope, we have class," Dean said. "Just checking you were okay, not going all epileptic on us."

That earned him a lot of blank looks.

"Right," Seamus said. "Off we go, then." He grabbed Dean's elbow and they hurried out of the room.

"Yeah, we have Snape, Terry," Corner said, shuffling his feet. "We should go."

"Just temporary madness?" Terry said, raising his eyebrows at Daniel.

"Fell asleep," Daniel said.

"Did not," Terry said, but he turned and followed Corner out of the room, leaving Daniel with his new stalker.

Then the classroom was full of fourth-years, who categorically told them to shove off.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Where's Theo?" Daniel asked as soon as they were outside the room.

Draco shrugged. "Didn't see him at lunch," he said. "What were you _doing_?"

"Interpretative dance," Daniel said. "Glad you enjoyed it. You don't have to follow me around all the time, you know."

"_I_ know," Crabbe volunteered.

"Draco, let's go outside for a while," Pansy said, grabbing at his hand.

"I need to finish the reading for Defence," Draco said, giving up his hand to her but not looking thrilled about it.

"Oh, that's easy," Pansy said. "It's only five pages, and Lupin doesn't care if you don't know answers."

"I'm going to go find Theo," Daniel said, profoundly uninterested. "Have fun." He walked off quickly, before any of them could say anything to him.

He checked the common room first, and as soon as he walked into the dorm he had an idea where he might be. He made his way up a million flights of stairs, then had to go down and around and up again when he realised the last staircase didn't lead where it had last time he'd used it. By the time he reached the hospital wing he was breathing hard.

Theo was sitting on the bed next to Blaise's reading a book, and there was some kid curled up in the one next to that. As soon as Daniel stepped into the room, Pomfrey came bustling up to him.

"No more visitors," she said. "I insist. Mr. Zabini is not up to conversation at the moment."

"I was looking for Theo," Daniel said.

"Yes, Mr. Nott, it's time for you to be leaving," Pomfrey said. "I'm sure Mr. Zabini was very grateful for your company."

Theo got up, holding the book loosely by his side. "Sure," he said. "Thanks for letting me stay." Pomfrey smiled at him as he left.

"How'd you get her to agree to that?" Daniel asked. "She's crazy-protective of her patients."

Theo shrugged. "Slytherin wiles, I guess," he said.

"Look, man, I know there's obviously some thing going on I don't understand," Daniel said, heading back down the stairs. "But if you want to talk to me about anything, that's fine. I mean, you don't have to, but if you do. You know."

"Yeah," Theo said, watching his feet move from step to step. "I know. How was History?"

"Worth skipping," Daniel said. "But I needed you there, as a buffer against Draco. I feel like I've just bought a puppy."

Theo smirked.

"What?" Daniel said. "You know something I don't?"

"Plenty," Theo said. "Have you done the reading for Defence, for example?"

"Pfff," Daniel said dismissively. "Everyone knows Lupin doesn't take points."

"It's still school," Theo said. "You're only on half Charms as it is, and no History. You'll forget how to study."

"I was studying all through History," Daniel told him. "So there."

"Yeah, Transfiguration, I'll bet," Theo said.

"Hey, unfair," Daniel said, stopping dead halfway down the stairs. "I don't just study Transfiguration, you know."

"Okay, so what were you studying, then? Shock me," Theo said from the landing.

"Fuck you," Daniel said, but his heart wasn't in it. "I'm not doing the Defence reading just to prove you wrong. Nasty Slytherin."

Theo laughed, making Daniel feel very pleased with himself. "Let's go Defence then," Theo suggested. "If you're not going to be prepared, you can at least make a good impression by being on time."

"I need to change my books," Daniel said, feeling contrary.

"You can use mine," Theo said, holding up the book he'd been reading and coming up the stairs towards him.

"I want to put away the ones I have," Daniel said, glaring fiercely at Theo.

"I'll charm your bag light," Theo said, pulling his wand out of his pocket.

"I need to brush my teeth," Daniel said, backing away.

"I have the _clean-o teethorum _spell right here."

"I left my wand in the History classroom."

"You can't use it anyway."

"The loo!" Daniel exclaimed triumphantly. The little kids rushing past them looked at him fearfully, and one of them almost fell down the stairs.

"Go on, then," Theo said. "If you miss the start of class, I'll just tell them you needed a while. Issues, you know."

"You're not even … you're … you're always making me do things right," Daniel said grouchily. "If I'm not careful, I'll pass the year or something, and it'll be all your fault."

Theo thrust the book at him. "Promise?"

Daniel stepped back from it. "Not so fast. I can't do it all at once."

"We'll go to class, then," Theo said triumphantly, and started back down the stairs.

"Okay, you have to help me be nice to him," Daniel said from a step behind him. "Oh, I think I should apologise. Keep the moral high ground, and stuff."

"Apologise for what?" Theo said. "All you did was defy him, swear at him and skive off his class. How can there be any doubt you keep the moral high ground?"

"I'll apologise for the swearing," Daniel said. "That's the only rule I actually broke."

"Oh, so class is optional, now, is it?"

"That was an accident," Daniel said. "Anyway, like you can talk. Remind me where you've been the past two hours?"

"An accident?" Theo said dubiously. "You tripped over and fell an hour into the future?"

"I fell asleep," Daniel said. "You filthy rotten hypocrite."

"History doesn't count, sloth," Theo said.

The Defence room was in sight. Daniel sighed, and resigned himself to an hour of tact and one very short moment of apology.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Well, that was a resounding failure," Theo said as they all walked back to the Slytherin rooms.

"I don't want him to like me, I've got more than enough people liking me as it is," Daniel said. "I think it went quite well, myself."

"Aren't you going to visit Blaise?" Daniel heard Millicent ask softly. He looked around, and Daphne shook her head.

"He's going to St Mungo's," she said softly. "I can't visit him until tomorrow."

Millicent slung an arm around her shoulders and she leaned slightly away, but didn't shrug the bigger girl off. "Shall we go for a walk?" Millicent asked. Daphne nodded, eyes blinking rapidly.

The two of them veered off. "I'm going to the library," Daniel said. "Want to come, Theo?"

Theo smiled at him. "Thinking of studying some History, are you?" he said sweetly. "Good idea. You can tell me what I missed in the lecture."

"I was going to look up some stuff for Arithmancy," Daniel said. "I can remember the assignment, I don't need to get anything."

"Are you finished with Runes, then?" Draco asked. "It's a bizarre assignment, I thought."

Daniel wanted to scream. "I am in the mood for Arithmancy," he said, surprised he didn't have a neon sign flashing _LIAR_ over his head. "I have to concentrate really hard to get it, and I think I could do that now. I don't want to waste time. I'm going to see Snape in an hour."

"Let's do Runes in the common room," Pansy said. "We can ask Cyril, he knows everything about runes."

"Yeah, see you later," Daniel said, practically running away to the library. Once he was outside its doors he stopped, caught his breath, and waited for Theo, who had followed more slowly. "I don't think I could have managed to spend the evening with him as well," Daniel said apologetically once his friend had caught up.

"Yeah, I figured," Theo said. "I'm guessing you don't really want to do Arithmancy, though."

"Hell no," Daniel said, disgusted by the thought. "I actually have to finish Runes."

"And you need me why?"

"Uh," Daniel said. "To check my spelling?"

"I do have work of my own, you know."

"Oh, come off it," Daniel told him. "You don't take Divination or Runes, you've got loads of free time tomorrow. You could get ahead in Defence, you've got the book."

"Fine," Theo said, opening the door and waving Daniel in.

The place was full of second years, all crowded around an unusually large table. There were all leaning in so close that Daniel couldn't even see what they were looking at. There were older students sitting in corners far away from them, either ignoring the second years or glaring at them regularly.

Daniel was torn between going to look, and keeping his dignified distance.

"Oh, look," a girl with long blonde hair commented, looking around and seeing them standing there. "It's that boy who came to our class."

A few of the second years turned around, but turned back straight away, much more interested in whatever was on the table. "Uh, yeah, hey," Daniel said. "I won't be there any more."

"That's a shame," the girl said. "You're really very good at explaining things."

Daniel was sure he'd never spoken to her before in his life. She was staring at him like he was the most interesting thing in the world though, so he could hardly just walk away.

"I found your advice very useful," she continued. "Although you did speak rather as though you thought she was quite stupid for needing an explanation in the first place."

"That's a shame," Daniel said. "What are you all looking at?"

"It's a map of the goblin battles of the fourteenth century," she said. "At least, as recorded by the wizards involved. Travis Urquhart brought it, and his family is very biased when it comes to non-humans, so I expect there are several significant inaccuracies."

"Yeah, probably," Daniel said. "I have work to do, now, though, so I have to go."

"Oh, of course," she said, nodding solemnly. "It was good of you to talk to me."

"Yeah, good," he said, and headed off past several shelves, to find a secluded table.

"Who _was _that?" Theo asked. "She was very … forthright."

"No idea," Daniel said, dumping his bag on the table. "I guess she was listening to me helping Morris and Longbottom in Charms. They _are _stupid, anyway. If I write a list of words and translations, can you test me on them in a minute?"

Theo sniffed, and pulled parchment and quill from his bag. "I'll consider it," he said.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel waved at Lisa and Terry as they left potions. Lisa looked at him and went slightly pink, but smiled and waved. Goldstein, looking dark with anger already, gave him a suspicious look, but Daniel just smiled at him broadly, and Terry tugged his friend away before anything could happen.

Finch-Fletchley surprised Daniel by stopping beside him. "Unless it's urgent, I wouldn't go in there," he said softly. "He's in a foul mood. And you understand, when I say that about Snape … "

"I should fear for my life?" Daniel said.

"Exactly," Finch-Fletchley said. "He was crabby already, and then Mark's potion nearly exploded, and he caught Lisa and Anthony snogging in the supplies once they'd finished their potion. I thought he was going to kill us all."

"Right, thanks, I owe you one," Daniel said, safe in the knowledge a Hufflepuff would never enforce such a casual debt.

"No problem," he said. "I'll see you later."

"See ya," Daniel said, stepping into the classroom.

Snape looked up and saw him, and if Daniel hadn't been forewarned, he might have just turned tail and run. As it was, he set himself and met the man's eyes. "Hi," he said. "I was wondering why you didn't tell me before he just came in like that."

"I don't have time to discuss this with you now," Snape said levelly. "Perhaps tomorrow."

"Perhaps we should pick a definite time, and stick to it," Daniel said. "I'd kind of like to know where I stand with you."

Snape narrowed his eyes. "I can speak to you at eight o'clock tomorrow evening," he said. "You may spend your time until then trying to acquire a set of manners."

"If I find out where they're available, I'll be sure and tell them to save one for you."

Daniel stood, every inch of him ready to run, or to fold and beg for his life if that turned out to be a better course of action.

"Make that a detention, tomorrow at eight," Snape said. "And five hundred lines due by your Thursday morning detention. 'If I cannot truly find it within myself to respect my elders, I shall at least attempt to present myself as doing so, and if that should fail, I shall accept the consequences of my rudeness with all the maturity I can muster_.' _I will know if you find someone to help you with magic."

Daniel opened his mouth to protest the absurd length of the sentence, but came to his senses and nodded. He was lucky to be alive, after all.

"I'll just go and get started, then," he said, backing out of the room.

As soon as he'd closed the door behind himself, he let himself grin, but muffled his laugh. Snape was feeling guilty. _Snape_ was! Daniel almost danced down the corridor.

He'd been in a truly foul mood, interrupted without warning, confronted and insulted, but had only given out lines. A disgustingly unfair amount of lines, sure, due impossibly soon, but they were still only lines. He was feeling _guilty._


	11. Five Hundred Lines

Daniel headed back to the common room to start on the lines before dinner, only to remember that Theo was probably still in the library. So he sat at their usual table, on Goyle's end, pulled out parchment, quill and ink, and set himself up to start on his lines.

Then he realised something. "Fuck."

Draco looked up from where he was frowning over the Runes textbook, one eyebrow raised inquisitively.

"Fuck," Daniel said again, thinking as hard as he could.

"Something the matter?" Draco asked coolly. "Or are you just going to keep assaulting our ears with filth?"

Daniel sighed. "I just got lines from Snape. Like, a million of them, due on Thursday. I can't remember it for shit."

Crabbe and Goyle both chuckled, and Pansy looked at him disdainfully. "Oh dear," Draco said, and returned to his work.

It had been about manners, he remembered that much. And accepting consequences of rudeness. But the words were beyond him. "He has a class this evening, right?" he said.

"Sixth years, I think," Draco said absently. Daniel looked around, and was relieved to see Maura Chalmers still in the room. She was Snape's star pupil, almost up with that Harrison guy in Ravenclaw, even though he was a seventh year. So the class obviously wasn't right now.

With a sigh, Daniel got up and tucked a piece of parchment into his pocket. "I'll just go get it again, I guess," he said. Draco just nodded absently, and none of the others reacted at all.

He forced his humiliation down into hiding as he walked back to the Potions classroom. So stupid, not thinking to write down a punishment line. And one that long? Due so soon? _Stupid._

He knocked on the closed door, then remembered that Snape was feeling guilty, and let himself in without waiting for an answer. Or he would have, if the door hadn't been locked.

Thinking Snape was probably at dinner, he sat himself down by the door to wait. He spent a little time hoping the line might pop into his head if he sat there with an empty mind for long enough. When that didn't work, he went through his classes for the next two days, trying to work out which ones needed his attention, and which ones he could do lines in.

There was no option of paying anything less than complete attention in Potions; Snape would probably check up on him anyway. He'd feel bad about using Charms for Snape's lines as well. Why, he didn't know, since he was perfectly happy to use the time trying to do illegal Transfiguration, but the feeling was there no matter how stupid it was. Transfiguration itself was an opportunity, he was ahead in the coursework and would only have to pay a bit of attention. Runes was only an hour, and it was usually pretty fun. Defence he could probably get away with, though Snape certainly wouldn't approve. Arithmancy would be a good chance, but he didn't have any History classes before Thursday. Stupid timetable.

He'd be writing _now_, if Snape would only hurry up with his stupid dinner. How was he going to ask him to repeat the line, though? Snape would give him that _look_, and he'd feel completely stupid and probably turn red, and probably have to ask over and over until Snape relented and repeated it for him.

He'd probably make it longer, too. Maybe add on something like 'and if I had half a brain I would not have had to return to Professor Snape in order to confirm the composition of this line, and would have already started writing them by now'. It would sound better, but that's what it would mean.

His left index finger started to throb as he sat waiting. Realising belatedly that he'd been tapping it idly against the floor, he grabbed his wand and stopped it before the change became visible. Last thing he needed was for Snape to see _that_.

Snape came striding along the corridor, _finally_, and Daniel scrambled to his feet, trying to remember if he'd come up with a plan. Snape saw him, but didn't acknowledge his presence.

"Can I —" Daniel started, but stopped abruptly as Snape handed him a piece of parchment, opened the classroom door and vanished inside without a word.

_If I cannot truly find it within myself to respect my elders,_ it said, _I shall at least attempt to present myself as doing so, and if that should fail, I shall accept the consequences of my rudeness with all the maturity I can muster._

Well, that was nice of him. Except that seeing it written made the timeline so obviously impossible, and what was worse, reading it made it clear what good advice it actually was. He walked slowly back down the corridor to the common room, walking straight through it and down to the dormitory without a word to anyone.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

McGonagall confiscated his lines at the end of Transfiguration the next morning. He'd written fifty during that class, on top of more than a hundred last night, and she confiscated them all. Seven hours' work. His hand was cramping like bejeezus, and he had nothing to show for it. He'd told her when they were due, but all she'd done was purse her lips and mutter something about it being a message worth writing as many times as possible.

That had surprised him. McGonagall was pretty unreasonable sometimes, but she wasn't usually unfair. She didn't have to stoop so low as to make it personal, when all she'd had to say that he shouldn't be doing other work in her class. He didn't have time to have it out with her anyway, not unless he wanted to be last to Runes, and end up sitting next to Granger again, or worse, next to Pansy or Crabbe. He ran to catch up with the rest of his class, and with a sudden wicked thought went straight past the Slytherins to walk with Ravenclaw.

"Hey Lisa," he said, giving her a friendly smile. Goldstein glowered, of course, and he felt better.

"Hi," she said, going a bit pink. "What did Gonners take?"

"Lines," he said. "Snape gave them just after your Potions class yesterday."

The pink definitely deepened, and Goldstein walked to her even closer than he had been. "You shouldn't have gone in," she said.

"Oh yeah, Finch-Fletchley warned me about that, but he wasn't all that clear on why not," Daniel lied pleasantly. "He just said something about Douglas messing up his potion, and something about the supply cupboard. Nice to know I've got at least one person looking out for me." That last part he said a little louder, to make sure Terry would hear.

"Lisa's got her eyes full for the moment," Corner said, staring at the ceiling. Lisa scowled at him, but he didn't seem to notice.

"We _weren't_," she said fiercely. "I told you, we weren't!"

"Shut your face," Goldstein said, shoving Corner sideways, not really playfully at all.

Terry grinned. "Really, Anthony? The _supply cupboard_?"

Lisa was starting to look really upset. Goldstein looked at her, then glared at his friends. "We've been over this," he said darkly. "At least, those of any with any maturity at all are over it. We'll leave you boys to your sniggers." He took Lisa's hand and walked ahead of them, letting go of her hand after a while and putting his arm around her shoulders.

"What's the deal there?" Daniel asked, crushing the squirmings of guilt he was getting remembering the look on her face.

"They _swear_ they weren't snogging," Terry said, rolling his eyes.

"What else would they be doing that took so long, I ask you?" Corner said. "Taking inventory?"

Both Ravenclaw boys sniggered.

"Pretty dumb place to do it," Daniel said, "I mean, _Snape._"

"Anthony's crazy about her," Corner said, almost managing to hide his jealousy. "Probably completely forgot where he was."

"Imagine being caught by Snape though," Terry said, wrinkling his nose. "Enough to put you off girls for life."

"How _is _dear Mandy?" Daniel asked, happy to shift the conversation away from Lisa.

"Shut up!" Terry hissed, looking around.

Corner laughed. "She doesn't even take Runes, you dunce," he said. "She's probably back in the common room with Alan. He mentioned he was going to be practising his wandwork, and was desperate for a partner."

Terry went stark white, and stared at him. "I will kill you," he said weakly. "I'll curse you but you won't even realise anything's wrong. First, you'll start following the Cannons, buying that delightful orange scarf charmed to sing the theme every time someone says 'Quidditch' and wearing it everywhere you go. Then, you'll start realising how downright attractive Trelawney is. You'll switch from Runes to Divination, just so you can spend more time in her intoxicating presence, and - "

"Intoxicat_ed_," Daniel interrupted.

The colour was back in Terry's face, and he shot Daniel a dirty look for interrupting his flow.

"Alan did say he needed help with Defence," Corner muttered, but he looked suitably horrified at Terry's words.

They were at the classroom then. They were a little late, but then, Babbling was usually more than a little late, so that was fine. Goldstein and Lisa were sitting as far away from the door as was possible, holding hands on the table but not saying anything. Corner went to join them, but first Terry grabbed him and whispered something in his ear. Corner clicked his tongue in irritation but nodded, then went to sit next to Goldstein. Terry sat next to him, and Daniel gladly took the last seat in the row next to _him._ He didn't even look behind him to see where the rest of the Slytherins sat. Draco wouldn't send notes so blatantly in _this _class, so he could be safely ignored.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The loss of over a hundred and fifty lines had forced him to rethink his stance on doing lines in Charms. He had four hours of it before the lines were due, and it didn't make up for all the time he'd already lost, but it was a start. So when everyone was getting ready to take notes on Flitwick's lecture, Daniel took out both a blank piece of parchment and the bit with his line on it, and sighed. Theo looked over at him, and laughed outright when he read the line Snape had set. So, of course, Dean, who was on his other side, leaned across to read it too, and tried to smother a snort. He picked it up to show it to Seamus, and Daniel snatched it back as soon as Seamus grinned at him.

"Five hundred by Thursday morning," he said grimly, and ignored their horrified looks.

The page was there, and it was blank. He thought of all the lines McGonagall had taken, and felt sick. But it wasn't like he had time he could afford to waste feeling sorry for himself, so he started to write, sometimes glancing up at Flitwick as if in thought, or pausing to page through his textbook. By the halfway point of the lesson he had twenty five lines. An idea hit him, and he slid that piece of parchment in his Defense text in his bag, getting out a new one to write on in the second hour. Let them confiscate lines at the end of each class. He'd write each damn line separately if he had to, and deliver them to Snape in a bag. He'd never be so stupid as to lose six hours' worth at once again. What had he been _thinking_?

He switched his Charms text for _Swishes, Flicks and Curlicues_, and shifted down to the end of the row for 'private study'. After half an hour he slid another eleven lines into his bag, starting to feel a little better. That feeling lasted about one second, until he couldn't help but compare his thirty-six completed lines to the five hundred he had to produce by Thursday. Resisting the urge to bang his head against the table, he set himself to writing again. _If I cannot truly find it within myself to respect my elders_, he wrote, forcing his aching fingers to form each letter clearly. Snape was really strict about handwriting, the hypocrite.

When he heard the sound around him dull down, he moved to store the eight lines he'd managed to finish, but wasn't quick enough to stop Flitwick from seeing them. He put them back on the table. Eight wasn't so very many to lose, after all.

"These are the lines you have been assigned by Professor Snape, are they not?" the man asked calmly.

"Yeah," Daniel said.

"Detention," Flitwick said, and Daniel's heart sank. He didn't have enough time as it was.

"Okay," he said through gritted teeth. It wasn't unfair, exactly. Just … unfair.

"Saturday afternoon," Flitwick said, spinning the parchment around to face him. "Three o'clock, in my office."

"Thank you," Daniel said, not even caring that it was a detention he was thanking him for.

"You won't be writing these in my class tomorrow, Mr. Livingstone," Flitwick said firmly. "I have made allowances enough for you as it is."

"Yeah," Daniel said again. "I wasn't going to do them, but then McGonagall took _all _of mine this morning, even the ones I'd done last night, which set me back so far I don't know if I'll be able to catch up, so I had to."

"I understand your situation," Flitwick said. "But they are your lines, brought on by your actions. You should take their lesson to heart."

The whole point of the lines, Daniel thought, was to tell him that what was in his heart didn't matter. Surely Flitwick realised that. But the man just looked at him levelly, until Daniel nodded.

"It's unfair, though," Daniel said quickly. "For McGonagall - "

"Professor," Flitwick interjected quietly. "Please, Mr. Livingstone."

It was all about presentation, Daniel told himself. "For _Professor _McGonagall to take the lines I'd done the night before. I'd spent four hours on those lines, and it's not like I can't get along in Transfiguration without giving it my undivided attention."

He'd mixed up his complaints there, he realised, but Flitwick was a pretty cool guy, and maybe he'd realise how bad it was for McGonagall to have taken them.

"You should speak to Professor McGonagall about that. Her last class ends at seven o'clock this evening," Flitwick said. "Try to present yourself with a little respect. It's a long day."

He walked away, and Daniel scowled. Maybe he could _respect_ McGonagall if she wouldn't be such a bitch all the time. If she maybe did something to earn it. He stuffed his things into his bag and walked out of the classroom.

Draco wasn't waiting for him, which was a surprise. He'd been so _ready _to completely ignore him, that to have him nowhere in sight was a bit disappointing. Thoroughly disappointing, even. He found the nearest empty classroom he could, and forced his hand to write like it had never written before for the hour before Defence.

The result was twenty lines that Daniel hoped fervently would be neat enough. He put that sheet in with those from Charms, and went to Defence, his hand aching thoroughly. When Lupin asked why he wasn't taking notes, he explained he had been doing a lot of writing and his hand was too sore. He paid especially careful attention in class so Lupin could have nothing else to say to him, flexing and stretching his hand constantly through the hour. As soon as the class was dismissed he grabbed his things and hurried to the library, put his head down and wrote.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

A few people visited him after he'd settled down to do his lines, but he refused to be distracted. After a while Theo set up next to him reading his Muggle Studies textbook in a companionable silence. First time Daniel stopped to shake out his hand though, the silence shattered.

"Why are you trying so hard?" Theo asked, closing his book sharply. "I really didn't think Snape could get to you like this."

Daniel stared at him, still absently shaking his hand from the wrist. What could he say? He had to do everything Snape said so that he could count on Snape staying guilty about telling Dumbledore that his dead parents had destroyed his magic through a talking amulet?

He _could _say that. If he wanted. Theo wasn't going to go poking around in his heritage, or demanding to know what they'd said. He would understand what it was like to not want to talk about your parents.

"If you'd said what I said to him, you'd be scrambling to finish this as well," he said eventually. "However bad this is, it lasts for two days. He could have had me in detention for the rest of the year. Still could, if I don't get these done."

He liked the look on Theo's face. It was weird, how he got so much respect from all his friends by just speaking his mind to adults who weren't allowed to say anything much back. "What did you say?" his friend asked tentatively.

"Oh, just stuff about manners, and how he doesn't have any," Daniel said dismissively. "Some other stuff. I can get away with a lot, I needed to know how much. Now I have to get on with this. What time is it?"

"Quarter to six," Theo said. "When do you want to go to dinner?"

Oh, dinner. "Six thirty," Daniel said. "I have to go see McGonagall at seven."

"You sure do visit a lot of teachers," Theo said. "Are you sure it's good for you?"

"I need my lines back," Daniel said. "And the other ones I can't help. Not my fault I need therapy or whatever to be able to do magic, and allowances made, and everything. Now shut up."

"Yes, _sir_," Theo said, sounding kind of annoyed.

_If I cannot truly find it within myself…_

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

It probably wasn't good form to keep ambushing teachers after their classes, Daniel thought as he waited outside the Transfiguration room for McGonagall's class to finish. He'd have to be super-respectful, or _very _devious, to get any lines back from her at all. Unfortunately, he didn't really have anything on her. Dislike for her, but nothing he could actually use against her. So it had to be respect. Politeness. _Manners._

He sighed, and the door opened and about a dozen students walked out. He shrank back unconsciously as Gwen Chalmers walked past, though she didn't seem to notice him. Before the door could close behind them he slipped in, knocking on the wall inside and waiting for McGonagall to give him his cue.

"Mr. Livingstone," she said with the usual snap of disapproval.

"Sorry to just barge in on you," Daniel said, trying heroically to mask his insincerity. "I know I shouldn't have been doing my lines in your class, and I'm sorry. Can I please have back the ones I wrote last night, though? They were nothing to do with - " _you_ " - my behaviour in your class, and I'm kind of struggling to get them all done, and there was more than a hundred there."

She looked at him grimly. Maybe he should have called her Professor McGonagall right off the bat. But she wasn't stupid; if he laid it on too thick she'd know he was faking.

"It was a great deal of lines," she commented after a tense pause. "However, I am under no obligation to return them to you."

Daniel wished she'd hurry up. He had _lines _to write, damn it. "I understand that," he said, the word _Professor _hovering in the air. But to say it would be giving up, and making it clear to her that he was only doing it to get his lines back. It would be shooting himself in the foot. "I'm just asking, because I need them. But I don't have much time, because of all my homework."

Which he wasn't even thinking about doing, of course. But she had no reason to suspect that. "They are in my office," she said, giving Daniel hope. "I shall have them sent down to you later this evening."

"Thank you," Daniel said, actually sighing in relief. "I really appreciate it."

"After your lines for Professor Snape are handed in, you will complete a set for me, however," she said. "Two hundred lines, by the end of Friday.

That was well below the belt, as far as Daniel was concerned. It was more than she'd taken from him in the first place. He was tempted to throw the offer back in her face. But it hadn't been an offer, of course, so he just nodded. "Shall I write the line down now?" he asked, his voice not coming out anywhere near as casual as he'd wanted it.

McGonagall nodded. She stood a moment in thought. "'I shall devote my full attention to the class I am attending at all times,'" she said. Daniel didn't do the maths, but he could tell that was no more than few hours' work. He'd forgotten not all teachers were malevolent with their punishment like Snape. He grinned, thinking he might as well let her see him happy with her. She might realise it was nicer that way.

He scribbled it quickly on the other side of the one from Snape, and grinned at her again. "Thank you," he said. "I'll go get some work done."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He did a hundred that night staying up until one o'clock, and got his hundred and thirteen back from McGonagall. He managed fifty in the two hours between Charms and Potions. He spent his extra time in Charms reading his research material, unable to bear taking notes but relishing reading something other than _If I cannot truly find it within myself_. It was something he'd never really considered before, what the movement of the wand meant to the spell. They'd covered it a bit, but if Flitwick thought eleven- and twelve-year-old kids learning magic gave a damn _why_ it was a circular motion rather than a slash, he was sadly mistaken.

Just before Potions he got the headache he'd been expecting to get last night. His eyes hurt, and his hand hurt, and when he moved his head too fast his brain shook around in his skull and stopped him from thinking. Snape demanded inter-house pairs, and watched in satisfaction as Daniel picked Dean, Daphne picked Patil, Theo picked Granger, Pansy picked Brown and Millicent picked Seamus, leaving Draco, Crabbe and Goyle in a stand-off with Potter, Weasley and Longbottom.

"Potter," Draco said graciously. "Do come join me at my workspace."

Goyle wandered over to Longbottom, and Crabbe walked up to stare at Weasley.

Suddenly tired, Daniel turned away from them all to sink down to sit next to Dean. "You'll do all the work today, right?" he asked wearily. "I was up 'til one working on the stupid lines, and I've got the mother of all headaches."

"You want a low grade, you let me handle things," Dean said, nodding calmly. "Just make sure I don't blow anything up."

"You never blow anything up," Daniel said. "Even when you work with Longbottom, you avoid most disasters."

"Snape's crazy," Dean said, lowering his voice to barely more than a whisper. "He lets the competent ones pair up, and leaves Ron and Crabbe to work together. And Neville and Goyle! At least Malfoy's good at Potions, even if he is a complete tosser."

Daniel shrugged. "He likes complaining," he said. "Snape, that is. He should take anger management or something, it really isn't healthy."

The classroom fell silent, so Daniel raised his eyes up to where Snape was standing, ready to deliver his lecture. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Theo give Granger a small smile, which she returned then looked around almost fearfully to see if anyone had seen it. Luckily for her, everyone was watching Snape with bated breath. Daniel supposed everyone had heard about how the other third-year class had gone that week.

Daniel could feel his hand twitching, like it knew it should be writing. Or maybe like it was in its death throes, who could tell. That was a fair excuse to not do much work, anyway. It wouldn't do for him to spill the defloogle pods, or whatever they were called.

It was about half an hour into brewing time before Snape came over to them. Daniel was explaining to Dean why they had to wait until the potion was fully distilled before turning down the heat, and Snape let him finish before speaking.

"Mr. Livingstone," he said. "Ten points to Slytherin for assisting your classmate with vital theory. Is there a reason you are sitting uselessly while Mr. Thomas is brewing your potion?"

"Yes," Daniel said. "I'm up to three hundred and thirteen, by the way. I had about fifty more, but McGonagall stole them."

Dean made a disbelieving noise, but turned quickly back to the potion when Snape tilted his head slightly in his direction.

"Hold out your hand," Snape instructed him. Daniel held them both out to him, slightly disconcerted when his right hand started to tremble.

"The aim of the exercise is not to write your hand off, you foolish boy," Snape said. Daniel searched his face eagerly for any signs of guilt. But Snape just tapped his wand against his quivering hand three times, and watched it until it stilled. "Any other problems you are incapable of solving on your own initiative?" he said then, voice entirely mild.

"Nope," Daniel said. "I'm good now."

Snape stared at him, eyebrow raised. "I doubt that very much," he said, and moved across to Seamus and Millicent.

Dean was frowning, but when Daniel looked at him curiously he just shook his head.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"He likes you, huh," Dean said once they were out of the classroom.

Daniel shrugged, more interested in watching Theo and Granger just ahead of them, not talking but walking together like they were friends or something. Daphne had vanished somewhere as soon as Snape dismissed them, leaving just the four of them to walk to Arithmancy.

"Potions would be cool if he was like that for everyone," Dean said, clearly put out. "I mean, he's horrible to Harry, and it's really unfair but Harry's tough enough to deal with it. There's some reason behind it somewhere, I guess. And he favours Malfoy enough to make us all sick, and that's unreasonable as well. But hell, he gave you five hundred lines which are killing you, and then was nice to you in class, and it's like you're a real person. You know, good and bad? And he practically made a joke at the end there, and you're used to that, and it kills me, because potions are incredible, but we're never going to be able to like the class because he's such a git to us."

That was a huge speech for Dean, who tended to stay pretty cool about things.

"Well, he's my head of house," Daniel said. "And he's helping me with Charms and stuff."

"So all I have to do to get him to be fair to me is get re-sorted and get disabled?" Dean said, forehead crinkling. "That's hardly fair."

"We're Slytherin," Daniel said. "Not big on fairness."

"Hypocrite," said Theo from ahead of them, as he entered the Arithmancy classroom.

"Shut up," Daniel retorted automatically, then turned back to Dean. "Anyway, it's kind of a cycle thing."

"What is?" Dean said, stopping in front of the door.

"With Snape," Daniel said. "Sure he's a bit of a bastard - "

"A _bit_?"

"Yeah okay, he's downright unpleasant, but then people are always nasty to him as well."

Dean stared at him blankly. "He's a teacher," he said. "Getting called a greasy git all the time doesn't mean he can just do and say what he wants to his students."

"Don't see why not," Daniel said. "There's way more of us than there are of him."

"You wouldn't talk like that if you saw it from our side," Dean said, shaking his head. "You've got it good."

Daniel almost went through the door then, but made himself stop. He liked Dean, and Dean liked him, so he might as well be honest. "You have no idea," he said. "Sure, Potions is good for us. What about Transfiguration for you? McGonagall hates Slytherins, but she won't do us the courtesy of being honest about it, and she pretends at even-handedness. She's deputy headmistress. Dumbledore favours Gryffindor outrageously, and he's headmaster. Remember our first House Cup? As soon as anything goes wrong in this place, it's down to Slytherin, and when a Gryffindor goes berserk and kills a teacher he gets a million points from Dumbledore and we're completely ignored. We've got Potions, but you've got the whole god damn school. So who can blame Snape for giving us a break?"

"Oh," Dean said.

"Sorry," Daniel said, feeling stupid. "None of it's your fault, I know. It just gets to me sometimes."

"Fair enough," Dean said, not looking bothered at all. "I guess I wouldn't know. Arithmancy?"

Daniel groaned. "Must we?"

"I thought you'd be looking forward to getting some more lines down," Dean said, and opened the door for him.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Just after two that morning in the deserted common room, he shoved all five hundred lines into the front of his Transfiguration text, and sighed in satisfaction. His detention was in less than seven hours, and he could both present his completed lines, look completely exhausted, and nudge Snape into fixing his hand again. Maybe he should stay up even longer, pretend it had taken him until five o'clock or something. _That_ should bring out Snape's guilty conscience.

So he did some Herbology prep, trying to hold off falling asleep for as long as he possibly could. When he found that he couldn't open his eyes beyond halfway, he quickly put away his Herbology and took out his lines again. He wrote a few more, just because he could, then let the sheet fall to the floor and rested his head on the table. Sleep took him before he could think another thought.

"Hey, Livingstone, is it?" someone said. "The fuck you doing out here?"

Daniel sat up slowly, his face feeling flat and weird from resting on the table. He looked around to see Ambrose Miller staring at him suspiciously from the stairwell.

"Asleep," Daniel managed. "Only a few minutes."

"It's five in the morning," Ambrose said, walking over. "Oh," he said, levitating the parchment from the floor. "I've heard something about this. Snape's lines?"

Daniel nodded muzzily.

"Finished them?"

"Uh," Daniel said, looking down. It was a much better story if he fell asleep just before the end. "I don't think so."

Ambrose yawned. "Well I have things to do, so finish them and get out of here."

Daniel yawned right back at him. "Sleepy," he said.

"When's your class?"

"Nine o'clock detention," he said. "Lines."

"Write them," Ambrose told him.

Daniel scrambled for his quill, then forced himself to slow down and think. "I'll go down to bed," he said. "Leave you to whatever."

"Go on, then," Ambrose said. "Don't spill ink on the sheets."

Daniel stumbled as he stood up, but Ambrose didn't move to help him. "Uh, good night," Daniel said, and crept down to get a few more hours sleep.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The knock was sluggish, but on time. For all his many flaws, Livingstone was usually punctual. Snape waved his door open, to see the boy standing there looking exhausted, a wad of parchment clutched roughly in one hand.

"I've done them," he said, shuffling into the room and dropping the sheaf on Snape's desk.

"They are not numbered," Snape pointed out, looking through it briefly. "And some of them border on illegible."

Livingstone took a deep, careful breath. "It was the best I could do," he said. "What am I doing for the detention?"

Snape was uneasy. It wasn't at all like Livingstone to just absorb punishment like this, or to accept criticism so mildly. "The class is prepared," he said. "I believe we need to discuss your absence from the detention you had scheduled for Tuesday evening. The meeting you demanded, in fact."

"Oh," Livingstone said, drooping even more where he stood, eyes dropping deeper into shadow. "I completely forgot."

The boy was clearly fatigued, and if Snape didn't want him arriving at McGonagall's class in tears or worse, he'd have to tread carefully. The boy surprised him, though, by being able to string two thoughts together.

"Why didn't you say something in Potions?" he asked, jaw stiff, holding back a yawn. "Dean said you were nice to me."

"Did he?" Snape said, not happy at all to hear that any Gryffindor had a single pleasant thing to say about him.

Livingstone shook himself slightly, and his eyes brightened. "I guess you're not mad at me for it then. Thanks."

Of all the outrageous things. The boy was clearly out of his mind after staying up all hours to scrabble together that appalling mess of a set of lines. There was no hope of discussing the required Legilimency with him now, not if he wanted any of it to sink in.

"Can I get that spell on my hand again?" Livingstone asked, glancing at him speculatively.

That one look told Snape a lot more than Livingstone had intended it to, Snape was sure. His discovery of the boy's motives almost brought a smile to his face. The boy hadn't been brought up as a Slytherin, but it was in his blood, after all. "You should sleep," he said, gesturing to one of a few chairs sitting idly in the corner.

"Huh?" Livingstone said.

Snape casually transfigured it into a low bench, and waved his wand to set it against the wall. It was a shame, really. He would have liked to see what kind of a performance Livingstone would have would have given if he hadn't been dead on his feet with exhaustion. As it was, Snape had the upper hand to such an extent it was almost intoxicating. "You have not taken enough care of yourself in this past week," he said easily. "You need to sleep in order to benefit from today's classes."

Livingstone frowned at that. "In detention?" he said. "I got this detention because — uh —"

Snape let him flounder for a while. "For interrupting me," he supplied, taking Livingstone's shoulder and directing him to the wooden bench. "You will serve this detention by staying quiet and out of my way on this bench. Understood?"

"I did all the lines," the boy muttered resentfully, sitting down. "Wrote my hand off, like you said. It _hurt._"

"Yes, well done," said Snape, turning away before he could smile at the boy's frustration.

It was a shame that Dumbledore insisted they clear Livingstone's mind so soon, he was starting to enjoy the game they were playing. Despite his botching the introduction of Dumbledore, the boy still appeared perfectly comfortable in his presence. Perhaps the boy was taking his nice act a little too deeply to heart. Any other Slytherin child would be looking for another motive, or at least understand that it was simply a pragmatic change in behaviour. For a child of the Seavers, Livingstone was pitifully naive.

Snape turned, and saw the boy already asleep, lying on his back on the bench. There wasn't a student in the school who could fall asleep so comfortably in his presence.

It was unacceptable.


	12. Steps Forward

Daniel made it all the way to History without actually falling asleep in class, but as soon as he'd answered to his name on the register, he lowered his head to rest his cheek against the table and gave in.

He woke slowly, Binns still droning away, watching Theo's quill scratch across his parchment. It looked funny, from down on the table. Kind of jumpy, and out of control. When he raised his eyes there was a flicker of movement from somewhere further down the table, but by the time his eyes had focussed properly it was impossible to tell what it had been. It was Draco and his gang down there. Crabbe was frowning down at whatever he was writing, Goyle was staring blankly ahead, and Pansy was pretending to do work of her own, but actually reading Draco's. Draco himself was staring fixedly at his quill, apparently deep in thought.

He should record Binns' lectures and play them whenever he needed to get to sleep. He could market them, make some money. It was only a few seconds later he faded back into sleep to the history of the office of Minister for Magic.

Then Theo was poking him, and he felt almost alert for the first time that day. People around him were packing up and leaving.

"Good lesson?" he asked, his voice still thick with sleep.

"You should fall asleep in class more often," Theo said. "Hilarious."

Daniel sat bolt upright. "What, why?" he said, looking over himself for traces of spells.

Theo laughed. "No, nothing like that," he said.

"What, then? Did I talk in my sleep?" _That _hadn't happened for years, that he knew of.

Theo shook his head. "I would have woken you up," he said. "Let's go. I need to finish my Muggle Studies, and you better help me this time."

Daniel stood up, grabbing his bag. "When didn't I help you?" he asked.

"You had your lines for Snape," Theo said. "They were like your baby."

"I have more, you know," Daniel said. "McGonagall gave me two hundred for doing Snape's in her class."

Theo groaned as they left the classroom. "What's this sudden obsession with lines? What's wrong with detention?"

Daniel shrugged. "They like to watch me suffer, I guess. Detention's not so bad, lines are killer. McGonagall's are pretty short, I can do them easy compared to Snape's."

"Common room, then?" Theo asked. "Or library?"

"Library," Daniel said. "I need to find a new book."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He spent the next couple of hours helping explain telephones, pagers and the postal service to Theo, who looked appalled by the effort it took Muggles to communicate with each other. He also got fifty lines done, and ducked away from Theo for a moment to see if he could find any books on magic that happened all by itself just from moving a finger, but didn't want to spend too long looking in case someone came looking for him.

After dinner, he got seriously stuck into the first serious Runes essay they'd been assigned, writing a line or two for McGonagall when he needed a break. Babbling had been pretty nice helping him with his essays in study hall last year, saying that all he needed to do was practise, but he doubted that meant she'd be at all lenient marking them for her class.

"Why do they have to make us write essays all the time anyway," he grouched to Theo, who was writing his own for Muggle Studies. "It's not like they don't know if we understand stuff or not, we show them all the time in class."

Theo shrugged, his attention still on his parchment. "Organises our thoughts, or something."

Why should thoughts need to be organised, anyway. Everyone's brain was different, he'd heard _that _enough times over the years. His brain was the wrong kind of brain to write essays, that was all. It didn't make him stupid, it just meant he had different strengths. Or something.

"Having trouble?" Theo asked as he finished a sentence. "Want me to read it over?"

"Nah," Daniel said. "I'll just take a break, get some lines down."

"Tell me if you change your mind," he said, and went back to his work.

After a while, Dean and Seamus turned up and sat down at their table. "Hey," Seamus said.

Theo looked up, looking surprised. Daniel was a little taken aback himself. His Gryffindor friends didn't usually have much to do with him when he was with other Slytherins, not outside of classtime especially.

"Can we talk to you a minute?" Dean said, biting his lip.

"Sure," Daniel said, happy to abandon his work. "What's up?"

The Gryffindors stood up again. "Not here," Seamus said.

They led him into the stacks, where Dean leaned against a shelf and stared at Seamus expectantly.

"Well, it's like this," the Irish boy said reluctantly. "We need you to cover for us."

"_He _needs," Dean amended casually.

Seamus elbowed him in the ribs. "United front, you wanker."

"Oh, yeah," Dean said, giving Daniel a meaningful look. Daniel wasn't sure what the meaning _was_, but the look was certainly full of it. "I'm sorry, _we_."

"How d'you mean?" Daniel asked curiously.

"You need to say you're in a study group with us," Seamus said, scowling at Dean.

"I do, do I?" Daniel said. "I'll just go an make an announcement, shall I?"

"Don't be like that," Dean said. "Hear the man out. Oh, sorry. Hear _us _out."

"There's something we go to do sometimes," Seamus said, looking furious, "And people are starting to ask questions. If we say we're with you, they won't check up on it, because Slytherin are the enemy and they won't talk to you."

Understanding dawned on Daniel, and he exchanged a glance with Dean, who smiled a little but shook his head.

"What do I get out of this?" Daniel asked Seamus, who looked relieved at the question.

"I dunno," Seamus said. "But you'll do it, right?"

Oh, yeah. Daniel would do it, for sure. But it wouldn't do to give in without having a _little _fun first.

"How often do you, uh, go do stuff?" he asked. Dean's mouth twitched, and Seamus' scowl deepened.

"None of your business," he growled.

Daniel laughed. He couldn't help it. Dean was holding back a smile himself, he could tell.

"A few times a week," Dean said. "We were thinking maybe we could say it was a Transfiguration study group, since you're so good at that, and neither of us are particularly."

"And what am I meant to do while you're off doing stuff?" Daniel asked, though he knew perfectly well what he'd be doing. He'd be doing his own little Transfiguration study group. Well, more like tutoring session. "I can hardly be out and about being seen not at the study group."

"You don't have to do it if you don't want to," Dean said, shrugging, ignoring the look Seamus sent him. "Worst comes to worst, we can just tell people the truth. It's not like we're breaking any _rules_ or anything." That with a pointed look at Seamus, who just looked grim.

"How about Monday and Thursday after dinner," Daniel suggested. "Or do you need more time?"

"That's fine," Dean said quickly. "Say seven to nine?"

"Sure," Daniel said. "We can work out later where it's going to be."

"Oh, okay," Dean said. "I was going to suggest a classroom down near the dungeons."

"I'll get back to you," Daniel said. "Dungeons are no good, they're crawling with Slytherins. I'm lying to everyone here too, you know."

"True," Dean conceded. "Okay, we can try to think of somewhere better."

He went back to Theo, who gave him a curious look. "What was that all about?"

"None of your business," Daniel told him cheerfully. "How's your essay?"

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He triumphantly handed McGonagall his lines at 8 o'clock the next morning, at the start of Transfiguration. He apologised to her again, just for the hell of it, and spent the whole class being painfully attentive, rivalling Granger in eagerness to answer questions, and absolutely _littering _his speech with _Professor_s and _ma'am_s. If he never technically did anything wrong where she was concerned, he could make fun all he liked. She couldn't take points away for _respect_, could she? He almost looked forward to the argument they'd have if she did.

In History he wrote bits and pieces for his Runes essay, hoping he could convince Babbling to read them over for him, and give him some advice. Arithmancy he'd decided was a lost cause. He'd go, but he'd fail, and it was only an elective anyway. They had to take two electives, not pass them. So he sat in blank incomprehension for the hour between Theo and Dean, who were doing slightly better, maybe because they'd paid attention in class sometimes.

At the end of Runes Daniel made sure Terry wouldn't wait for him and approached Babbling, who was trying to restore her desk to some kind of order.

"Hey," he said. "I wrote some stuff for the essay, would you mind looking over it and telling me if I'm doing okay?"

"Certainly," she said, holding out her hand.

"Not now," Daniel said, handing his work over. "I have an appointment now, but I could come back some other time."

"My office hours are tonight, from seven to nine," she said, sliding his parchment into her bag. "I'd be happy to see you during that time."

"Great, thanks," he said. "See you later, then."

He forced himself not to run, but made his way steadily down staircases and out onto the grounds, where he was delighted to discover it was raining, and hardly anyone was outside. Heart beating like mad, he strode along down the path to Hagrid's hut, to meet with a mass-murderer.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The dog was waiting for him at the outskirts of the forest, getting soaked in the rain and watching him warily as he approached.

"Hey, boy," Daniel said. "Let's go for a walk."

It trotted at his heels until they were far enough into the forest, then Black was there, taking hold of Daniel's shoulder.

"What?" Daniel protested, tearing himself away. "Don't grab at me like that."

"What have you found?" Black said, glaring at him fiercely.

"This," Daniel said, reaching into his bag and pulling out the bag of oatcakes and scones he'd salvaged from breakfast. "And I did a bit of research on the rat, but my time was mostly taken up by doing lines."

Black ate a scone in two huge bites, and kept watching Daniel expectantly.

"It was a lot of lines," Daniel said, suddenly realising how little Black must care about his little student punishments. "And one of my housemates got cursed, and another one was following me everywhere, so things were pretty crazy. But I asked around and I know for sure that Weasley's rat is just a pet, not his familiar or anything, so that makes things simpler."

Black snorted. "Well I knew _that_," he said.

"I didn't," Daniel said, watching Black tear through the oatcakes. "I had to start from the beginning, you haven't told me anything."

Black laughed suddenly, and it was so loud it made Daniel jump. "So much for checking for poison," he said, indicating the now-empty bag, which was started to drip rainwater.

"Will you teach me Animagus?" Daniel asked anxiously. "I started it on my own, and I didn't do a very good job of controlling anything."

"What's your next step in getting Peter?" Black asked, sitting down against an oak, apparently indifferent to the damp.

"I'm friends with two of Weasleys roommates," Daniel said. "That'll be my way in, if anything is. I might be able to trick a password out of them, or something like that."

Black gave him a long, thoughtful stare. "Sit down," he said eventually, patting the ground next to him. "Tell me what you've done."

Daniel sat down tentatively, wincing as he felt the water rise through his robe and trousers. He took his wand out of his bag and laid his left hand out on his leg. He started to tap his finger slowly, heart speeding up when he felt the vibrations starting. After about a minute the finger started to shudder and change its form. When he could feel it start to rattle his knuckle and it got painful he tapped it with his wand to set it back to rights.

"You can't do it like that," Black said flatly. "You'll change your form, sure, but it's all external, and it's incredibly difficult to synthesise. Believe me, we tried."

"Would it keep running on all over?"

Black shook his head. "It's more likely to turn in on itself and mangle your whole hand. You need to change from the core out, not the other way around."

"I was reading a book, uh, Fang to Feather, and for core transition - "

"Fang to Feather's not what you need," Black told him. "That's only for animal to animal, it doesn't apply. If you try that stuff on yourself you'll get in serious trouble."

"Well I tried Total Transformations too, that's where I got the exercise for the finger."

Black frowned. "Again, that's not the best book for you to be using," he said. "I'm trying to remember … "

Daniel waited for him, holding his hands together to keep that finger still.

"I think they're all in the Restricted Section," Black said. "Total Transformation can be helpful for your understanding, but you should learn the theory very generally. Everything's slightly different for Animagus, and you don't want to develop bad habits and make everything much harder for yourself."

"That thing I just did happens without me even thinking about it when I tap my finger," Daniel said. "Is that bad?"

Black nodded, scratching behind his ear. "It shows your aptitude for Transfiguration, and means you'll probably be able to transform eventually, but you can't let it continue. I remember … "

His eyes went distant for a while, and then icy cold. "Keep doing it," he said eventually. "But involve yourself in every detail, and learn to stop it without your wand. It's impulse control, mostly. Once you're in control of it completely, you can stop it happening altogether."

They sat in silence for a moment. Daniel was bursting with curiosity about so many things, but the moment he forgot who Black _was_ and asked them, he'd probably end up dead. Or worse. So he sat quietly, thinking about getting into the Restricted Section.

"McGonagall still Transfiguration professor?" Black asked after a moment.

"Yeah," Daniel said. "But she hates me, so I won't be getting any help there."

"Hates you, does she?" Black said. "What did you do to her?"

"She thinks I'm rude, and I have no respect," Daniel said.

Black laughed that laugh again, and this time from even closer to Daniel's ear. "She thinks that about everyone," Black told him. "Doesn't mean she hates you. She likes people who stand up to her."

Daniel shrugged. A Gryffindor wouldn't understand. Not even a Death Eater Gryffindor. "So apart from stopping the finger thing, what else should I be doing?" he asked. "You said from the core outward."

"Does Wembley still teach Runes?" Black asked.

"Nope," Daniel said. "Babbling."

"Hm," Black said, frowning thoughtfully. "He was usually a pretty good bet to get a pass into the Restricted Section. Have you ever snuck in before?"

"No," Daniel said, and Black looked somewhat disappointed.

"Got any teachers wrapped around your little finger?"

"Not really," Daniel said. "Flitwick likes me but he's always professional and everything, and Snape's okay - "

"Snape?" Black said, face blank with surprise. "Snape's a _teacher_? _Severus _Snape?"

"Well, yeah," Daniel said. "He teaches Potions."

Black burst out laughing, wild uncontrollable laughter, and Daniel could pretty well picture the arrest he'd heard so much about. There were even tears coming from Black's eyes as he rolled around on the ground.

Daniel sat perfectly still, determined not to attract even a shred of the man's attention. He wondered if Black would have the same kind of reaction if he told him about Lupin. Or maybe he'd just run straight up to the castle to kill him where he stood. You could never tell, with a madman.

"That must be … nice for him," Black said, sitting up slowly. "How many students has he killed so far?" Then a horrified look came onto his face. "How does he treat H - Potter?"

"He's pretty mean to everyone," Daniel said. "And he favours Slytherin."

"You'll tell me right now how that snivelling scumbag treats my - Potter, or this ends right here!" Black said, getting to his feet and glaring down at Daniel.

"He's pretty bad," Daniel said, frozen in place, mind pretty much frozen as well. "He's always taking points off, and making fun of him being famous and everything, and how bad he is at Potions."

Was Black feeling territorial? 'My Potter' was taking it a bit far. Did he think Daniel was so cold he could just listen to the man plotting to kill someone? Or maybe he assumed that since Daniel was a Slytherin, he wanted Potter dead as well.

Black's chest was rising and falling at an alarming rate. "He had better not lay a finger on that boy," he said fiercely. "Or I swear I'll go in there right now and finish what I damn well started."

Daniel was starting to understand what a bad idea this all was. He tried to speak, but it took him a few tries. "He doesn't hurt him," he said. "He just hates him. He hates most people, really."

Black's fingers were twitching on his right hand. Daniel didn't know what he'd do if Black demanded his wand. What could he cast? Not a single god damn thing. He felt his hand creeping up to his necklace, and pressed it firmly onto the wet ground in disgust instead.

"You'll get me that rat," Black said, naked violence in his voice. "And you'll do it soon."

"I told you," Daniel said quickly. "I'll do the best I can. But Snape gave me five hundred lines and the line was like fifty words long, and I've stayed up really late for nights in a row and I'm not at my best." He forced himself to stop before it became completely pathetic. He was starting to shake, he couldn't help it. It was really kind of cold. He closed his eyes, and tried to breathe.

Something heavy and warm rested itself on his leg. Without realising what he was doing he brought a hand up to scratch it behind the ears. Just in time he remembered who it was, and jerked his hand away. Black started to pant easily, rolling over more onto his side. That was submission, for a dog, Daniel knew. But Black was a man, and Daniel just didn't know what to do about the drool that was soaking into his trouser leg. His stupid hand started to raise itself to his necklace again, but he forced it to continue up and grabbed at his hair instead, pulling it up and away from his face.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"I'm sorry for scaring you," Black said a while later, sitting cross-legged on the ground, looking genuinely apologetic.

"I wasn't — "

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, grey eyes full of humour instead of homicide. But Daniel knew already that there wasn't much of a distance between the two, so it didn't make him feel much better. "You were quaking, and I don't blame you. If I do that again, just say 'Padfoot' and I'll remember to transform. That cools me down."

Daniel swallowed. "Yeah, okay," he said. "Should I maybe not bring my wand?"

Black appraised him steadily. "Maybe," he said. "But if you're going to practise with me, we'll probably need it."

"I'm still not sure what I should be practising," Daniel said.

"Leave me some parchment and a quill," Black said. "I'll see what I can remember, books and exercises, and I'll write them down for you. And you should practise stopping that finger thing you have going, and work out how you can get into the Restricted Section. Okay?"

He was talking like Daniel was a kid now, which he never had before. Daniel didn't know whether to be relieved or offended. "Yeah," he said, pulling out some parchment from his bag, and searching for a quill. "I'll work on getting into Gryffindor, too."

Black nodded.

"Did you think of a place to meet? I mean, here's okay, but you said something about places other people don't know about. And today I got a ready-made alibi for Mondays and Thursdays seven til nine, but I can change that if it doesn't suit you."

Black smiled for some reason. "I'll make a note of it," he said. "Head out to the Whomping Willow on Monday, and I'll meet you on the way if it's safe. Otherwise, come back here for Thursday."

"Yes, _sir_," Daniel said as cheerily as he could manage.

They stood up together. "I'm sorry again," Black said. "You're only what, thirteen?"

Daniel shrugged. "It's fine," he said. He mostly had his breath back now, after all. "The other thing I was wondering…"

"Yeah?" Black said, running a hand through his disgusting hair, then shaking it back.

"How do you know what animal? McGonagall said you don't get a choice, but then how do you find out what you're meant to be turning into?"

"It just happens," Black said, grinning at Daniel's disgusted look. "No honestly, it does. I told you you transform from the core out, and your core can only do one transformation."

"So you have to learn everything without knowing what you're going to be?" Daniel said.

"Yeah," Black said. "It's crazy, first time you do it, you can't even really tell _what _you are."

"And it took you three years," Daniel said with a sigh.

"You've got talent for it, and a wonderful teacher. I only had one of those things," Black said, with what almost passed for a rakish grin.

Daniel bit back his retort to the 'wonderful' comment. _Mass murderer_, he reminded himself. "Right," he said. "Well, I'll get back now. Thank for, uh, meeting me, I guess."

"Next time bring meat," Black said. "Or fruit."

Daniel walked across to his bag, picked it up and only then looked back to Black. "I'll do what I can," he said, and walked quickly away.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

At five o'clock Theo came back into the common room from Muggle Studies with a smirk and a swagger. "Hey," he said. "Happy weekend."

Daniel, who was trying to make sense of Goldstein's unusually-scrambled notes on the jurisdiction of the Wizengamot, only managed a distracted, "Hey," in response.

"Whatcha doing?" Theo said, falling heavily into a seat next to him.

"Lisa is not good for Goldstein at all," Daniel told him, sitting back with a sigh. "_Look _at this mess."

Theo grinned. "I've got a new source," he said triumphantly. "Goldstein's all right, but Granger's the best."

"_What?_" Daniel said, grabbing at the parchment Theo was pulling out of his bag. "You got _what_?"

The others were looking up now, mostly with looks that said _shut the hell up__,__ I'm trying to study._ "Theo got Granger's history notes!" Daniel told them.

Draco gave a disapproving hiss, so of course Pansy did too. "What do you need those for?" he asked, lip curling.

Theo shrugged, starting to look a little wary. "They're way more detailed than Goldstein's," he said. "She practically writes out the whole lecture."

Daniel shuddered. "You want me to _read_ all that babble?" he said. "Bad enough I have to read the textbook."

"I told you, you should look into getting an Orator," Draco said.

"You can get them in Maureen Mistlethwaite now," Crabbe said. "I've got one on order."

"Really?" Theo said, eyes brightening. "Could I borrow it sometimes?"

Pansy tutted disapprovingly, and Draco frowned. "She speaks far too slowly to make it much use," he said. "All those extended vowels."

Crabbe rolled his eyes, and Theo for some reason grinned at Daniel.

"What?" Daniel said. He wished he _could_ afford an Orator. Reading was such a pain, and it was only going to get worse the more advanced his subjects got.

A sixth year came around to them then, Quinten something. "House meeting quarter past nine," he said. "Tell the rest of your year."

Everyone immediately looked to Draco as Quinten moved around to the next table. "Something about Blaise, I heard," he said. "I know Ambrose was talking to Amy about it earlier, I think maybe they're close to finding out who did it."

"I'll find Goyle," Crabbe said, standing and leaving.

"You should tell Daphne," Draco told Pansy.

"Oh, she'll hear," Pansy said dismissively.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "And if she doesn't?" he asked. "I assume you'll tell Ambrose why she's missing."

Pansy got up quickly and headed down to the dorms.

"So how'd you get the notes?" Daniel asked Theo.

"Wiles," Theo said.

"Tell," Daniel said, just as Draco made a disgusted noise and stood up.

"I can't listen to this," he said. "I'm going to take a bath."

"We were talking in class," Theo said, unperturbed by Draco's exit. "The conversation turned to the difference between Muggle and magical judicial systems, and I mentioned that I'd missed Monday's History class." A slow smile spread over his face. "She'd noticed, you know," he said gleefully. "So I told her I spent the whole time with Blaise in the hospital wing, because Pomfrey had made Daphne leave for a while and I didn't want him to be alone."

"So she gave you her notes?" Daniel asked, not convinced he was telling the truth.

Theo nodded. "Did you know she takes every class?" he said, as though that was the most interesting thing the world. "She does eight to five straight on Fridays, so she still had all her History stuff with her even for the last class of the day. It's so organised too, and colour-coded, and - "

"Want a hanky?" Daniel interrupted.

"Huh?" Theo said, breaking out of his babble.

"You might need one to wipe the drool off your chin," Daniel said wryly. "_Colour-coded_? Seriously? That's what works for you?"

"She's wasted on those two, really," Theo said. "I don't know why she didn't end up in Ravenclaw."

"Same reason you didn't," Daniel told him casually.

"What? What's that?" Theo asked.

Daniel grinned. "Too thick," he said.

"You're one to talk," Theo retorted, with what Daniel felt was a little too much genuine scorn. Then again, he always got touchy when it came to houses, so Daniel could maybe let it slide.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel went down to the house meeting with his mind still full of transitional sentences, three-part structures and reference systems from his meeting with Babbling. He was one of the last into the room, and just managed to squeeze in between Theo and Goyle. After a while Ambrose stood and positioned himself at the main fireplace, Gwen Chalmers following and standing on its other side.

"Snape'll be here in a moment," Ambrose said. "But before he makes the announcement, I want to remind everybody here what house this is, and make sure you're all perfectly aware that despite what others may think we are a _house_. A collective made stronger than its individual parts, working together and supporting each other in times like this. And before you accuse me of going all Hufflepuff on you, I'm not asking for group hugs or wand oaths here. Loyalty doesn't have to be overstated to be real, nor does it reduce anybody to lapdog or servant unless they want it to. Our loyalty is to each other, but unlike most people, those of us here understand that before loyalty can be of value to another, the giver of it has to come from a position of strength. An individual _lost _in a collective is worthless. We are a house made up of individuals, and it makes us stronger.

"So we all might have different reactions to what's about to happen, but our differences aren't a weakness. They are a strength, and they _must not _be allowed to overshadow what we all are together."

He stood there then, letting them absorb his words, and Daniel felt a moment of solid fury that Dumbledore had made _Percy Weasley _Head Boy.

"Also," Gwen Chalmers added softly, "I will personally see to it that anyone who puts a toe out of line while Snape is here will be regretting it well past Christmas."

She and Ambrose exchanged a nod, and they went back down to sit with their classmates. The room was deadly silent.

So Snape's entrance was perfect, his robes swirling around him as he strode through the seated students. He glanced at Ambrose and Gwen Chalmers and nodded before setting himself in front of the fireplace. He looking out across the room grimly.

"Miss Amelia Morgan has been taken into Auror custody," he announced, "For using the Denunci Adoperta Tuacurse on Mr. Blaise Zabini on Friday the eleventh of September. A confession has been elicited, and there can be no doubt as to her guilt. Mr. Zabini is undergoing treatment at St. Mungo's hospital, and will not be returning to classes for at least another week."

There was a stunned silence. Daniel was completely confused. Amy couldn't have done it, not when he'd gone to collect her himself after it had already happened.

"I will be available this evening until midnight if any of you should wish to discuss this with me," he continued forbiddingly. "If you have any questions, you will not direct them to Miss Greengrass or indeed to any of the third years. Any concerns you have can be brought to me, or to any of your prefects. I believe Mr. Miller has already discussed with you the need for house unity. I shall leave you in his capable hands."

And with that he was gone, and Ambrose stood again and took his position by the fireplace. Daniel pushed his way through to the door, and hurried after Snape.


	13. Having It Out

When Snape heard the footsteps hurrying after him, he knew who it was. Any normal child would have at least waited for Miller to call the meeting over, but of course if Livingstone had something to say, he wouldn't be waiting to say it.

So he turned around and fixed the boy with as dark a glare as he could, watching with satisfaction as he stepped back involuntarily and his eyes widened in alarm. Then, of course, he pulled himself together and glared back defiantly. "You said you'd be available until midnight," he said. "For any concerns we might have."

"Indeed," Snape said. "However, it would have been far more sensible to remain in the common room until Mr. Miller ended the meeting, and in doing so allowing me time to return to my office."

Livingstone just stared at him, unimpressed.

"I see my convenience is not high on your list of priorities," Snape observed dryly.

"So are we going to your office, or not?" Livingstone asked.

"Go back and apologise to Mr. Miller for the manner of your departure," Snape instructed him. "Then and only then will I be available to speak to you."

Livingstone sighed heavily. "Okay," he said. "But what if he's making another speech, am I meant to interrupt him to apologise for being rude? Because I really do need to talk to you, about Amy."

Snape wished he hadn't started lecturing Livingstone about manners, because right then all he wanted to do was turn on his heel and escape to his office. He had a headache, and an odd feeling that the longer he spoke to Livingstone, the worse it would get. Unfortunately, Livingstone was always eager to point out hypocrisy and inconsistency, so he forced himself to remain civil and _set a good example_.

"You will act as you think appropriate," he said, knowing perfectly well that the boy wouldn't have the nerve to interrupt Ambrose Miller, however much he might want to. "Go now."

Livingstone lingered just long enough to have Snape narrow his eyes, then turned and walked quickly back down the corridor. Snape sighed. It had been nice to have something going on that _didn't _involve Livingstone, to have a conflict where he knew where he stood, and what he needed to do. He had been looking forward to an evening of quiet, vindictive marking, perhaps broken up a little by a distraught student or two, but nothing really taxing.

He held off the urge to rub his forehead until he had closed his office door safely behind him and felt that the wards had gone up. If Livingstone dared to complicate matters, Snape might just forget the plan he had to discuss Legilimency with the boy tomorrow, and get it out of the way tonight without bothering to soften the blow.

He let the pleasure associated with that prospect linger in his mind, spending ten minutes in meditation to try to ease his headache. He was thoroughly sick of his headache-relieving potion; even the thought of the smell of it made him nauseous. For some bizarre reason, Black's escape and Lupin's subsequent employment had taken their toll on his nerves, and he had been swilling the stuff rather more than usual recently. It would likely be worth brewing some more of the Tasteless Potion, though when he'd find time to do _that _between forty-two class hours, almost as many again in preparation and marking, his duties as head of Slytherin, brewing Lupin's Wolfsbane, securing the school against Black, keeping an eye on Potter and managing Livingstone he wasn't quite sure.

He supposed he could set the fifth-years to brewing it on Monday morning. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had a few capable brewers between them, and he could use the satisfactory efforts until he had a chance to do some brewing of his own over the holidays. Which Dumbledore had made very clear he would be spending at Hogwarts, for "security reasons".

So much for clearing his mind. The sides of his head were starting to throb, and Livingstone could be back at any moment. He reluctantly pulled out a vial of headache relief from the bottom drawer and glowered at it for a moment before opening it, holding his nose and pouring it down his throat.

He pressed a hand to his mouth as the disgust ripped through him, just as he felt someone try to open his office door. It was Livingstone, then. _Anybody _else would have knocked first. He coughed, put the empty vial back in the drawer and had a long drink of water. The headache was entirely gone by the time the glass was empty, so he took out the letter from Livingstone's guardians and set it on his desk, facing where Livingstone would soon be sitting.

There were three slow, heavy knocks on his door.

"Enter," he said, and the door opened to reveal not only Livingstone, but Nott along with him. Snape slipped the letter under a pile of sixth-year essays and looked between the two of them. Livingstone was looking disgruntled, and Nott even paler than usual.

"Theo can go first," Livingstone said, and stepped back out of sight. Nott waited at the door for Snape to call him in.

"Come sit down," Snape said, feeling gracious. Nott closed the door quietly behind him and sat down. "What would you like to discuss?"

"I want to help Blaise, sir," Nott said, staring at the desk.

"There is little you can do," Snape told him, not prepared to let Stanley Nott's son near an incident with such clear parallels to the past. "He is in capable hands, and has a great deal of support from both his mother and Miss Greengrass."

Nott hung his head and said nothing. Snape wished the boy would speak his mind, and was immediately appalled with himself. It was to nobody's benefit when students got too communicative.

"Your wish is commendable," he said. "However, what Mr. Zabini needs now is time to recover. When he returns, I am certain there will be ways for you to aid him in his return to classes."

Nott nodded. "Yes, sir," he said, standing up. "I understand that."

"I shall inform you if you can be of any use," Snape said generously. Nott nodded and walked to the door, where he paused, clearly working his way up to something.

He turned back around and moved a few steps closer to Snape. "I want to help with Daniel too, if I can," he said softly. "I don't think he's even noticed, but he's not getting any schoolwork done, and he's acting kind of weird."

It was a shame the boy carried the Nott name, really. He could never be publicly trusted, despite it being obvious to anybody with eyes and half a brain that his loyalties lay firmly opposite his father's. "I am sure you do a great deal in helping Mr. Livingstone already," Snape told him. "It is probable that involving yourself too deeply in his troubles will do more to harm him than to help."

"I know," Nott said. "But if you're going to involve any of us, I want it to be me, not Draco." He suddenly sounded sure of himself, and met Snape's eyes firmly. "Draco thinks he means well, but he's not really Daniel's friend, and I'm not comfortable with what happened last time Daniel was sick. Sir."

"I see," Snape said. It wasn't like he'd had anything to do with Malfoy's choice to protect Livingstone. "Mr. Malfoy informed me that he assumed responsibility for Mr. Livingstone because he was alone and helpless. Had you been there, I expect he would not have had to take such actions."

There was a small twitch on Nott's cheek, and he turned slightly pink. "Yes, sir," he said, taking Snape's words as a reprimand. It seemed Nott saw responsibilities where there were none, including in his friendship with Livingstone. "Thank you, sir."

He didn't pause on his way out this time, and as soon as he had opened the door and walked through, Livingstone ducked past him and walked up to the desk, leaving Nott to close the door behind him.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Snape was sitting at his desk, looking thoughtful about something. Daniel would get Theo to tell him what he'd gone in there for later, but he had more important things to talk about with Snape.

"Did Daphne tell you what I did when Blaise got cursed?" he asked, sure that she must have, but that just made it obvious it wasn't Amy, so it made no sense.

"I have received a full accounting of the incident from Miss Greengrass, Mr. Zabini and Miss Morgan," Snape said, sounding like he was in kind of a bad mood. "Your part has been made clear to me."

"But you didn't ask _me_," Daniel said, realising as he said it that it was probably the reason he was so annoyed now. He was a witness, but no one had asked him anything at all. Maybe everyone else had been lying, and they'd somehow convinced Snape that it wasn't worth talking to him.

"I had no need of you," Snape said, glaring at him.

"Well if they told you what happened, then they told you I only went to get Amy after he was already cursed," Daniel told him. "So she couldn't have done it."

The look Snape gave him withered his insides a little. "Mr. Livingstone," he said, voice harsh. "Do you believe me so dull-witted as to expel one of my own students and have her placed in Auror custody without being cognisant of all the facts?"

"I guess not," Daniel said, trying to think if _cognisant_ might mean anything other than _aware_. "Is it some kind of a really slow-acting curse then, so that she could do it hours before and it only happen later? Because she really looked properly surprised and didn't even believe me when I told her about it, and usually people can't fool me all that well."

Snape just kept stared at him, breathing deeply. "Mr. Livingstone," he said, and paused. "Are you in fact aware that you directed Miss Morgan into a room with a physically injured Mr. Zabini and a distraught Miss Greengrass?"

"Well, yeah," Daniel said. "That's why —"

"Are you also aware that Miss Morgan is a seventh year and you and all your classmates are in only your third year at Hogwarts?"

Daniel was starting to feel stupid. "Yeah I know _that_," he said, annoyed.

Snape's black glare did not shift. "Then you have all the necessary facts," he said.

Daniel didn't drop his eyes, but forced himself to think through what Snape had said. There was obviously something he was missing, but Snape was being an arse about it and didn't look like he was going to help him work it out.

"I think Daphne would have noticed if Amy had cursed Blaise while she was in the room," he said eventually. "And she asked for Amy anyway, so if Amy did it that means Daphne wanted Blaise cursed, which is crazy, because they're really good together."

"It means nothing of the kind," Snape retorted scornfully. "Miss Morgan is known to be proficient with curses and counter-curses, which is no doubt why Miss Greengrass asked for her specifically. Though Miss Greengrass is a competent witch for her age, she cannot be expected to understand everything Miss Morgan did in her treatment of Mr. Zabini. Do you have any further questions?"

"Yeah, so why was Blaise even bleeding in the first place?" Daniel asked, needing to find _something _Snape didn't have an answer to. "You never said anything in the common room about _that_."

"That, Mr. Livingstone, is because I have better things to do with my time than explain every minute detail of every event which occurs in this school to self-important children who consider themselves indispensable in the deliverance of justice."

"So do you know?" Daniel asked against his better judgement.

Snape just shoved a piece of paper across the desk toward him. "You are better off spending your time reading that," he said.

Daniel's heart leapt in his chest when he saw the first word. It was written on regular office paper, with a ballpoint pen, and it was addressed to _Danny_, in Penny's neat block writing_._

He looked up at Snape warily. "Did you read this?" he asked.

"I did not," Snape said. "But I received word of my own, in which I was informed of the content of their letter to you."

The world started to close in around him, then. The only reason his parents would write to Snape would be to tell him that he'd run away, and that they weren't his guardians any more, and that he'd have to go to the Kepler's for the holidays. He really had thought they wouldn't do that to him, but maybe they'd been forced to. He couldn't look at the letter, not when it was going to ruin his whole life. No wonder Snape had been all grumpy, it was probably against some kind of rule to not tell him about a change in guardian.

"Livingstone," Snape said, sounding angry. "Will you read the letter, or shall I read it to you?"

That was the last straw. Read to him, indeed. Like he was too stupid to read it himself. He snatched it off the table, but had to blink through tears to be able to focus on what it said.

_Danny,_

_ Your Head of House has written to us about what's happened with your magic, and we're very sorry to hear that you're having trouble. Mr. Snape thinks you need something called Legilimency, which he described as being mostly like brain surgery, but dealing with thoughts rather than brain tissue. It's not an uncommon idea in fiction, but I have to admit the thought of my own son having something like that done is pretty frightening, so I can't imagine how difficult it must be for you. We always miss you when you're away, so we've suggested to Mr. Snape that we have a visit on Saturday, where we can talk the whole thing through. Rick's nowhere near convinced that any of this is necessary, and I'd rather like to think it isn't, myself. Anyway, I'll hand the pen over to him now, and hopefully I'll see you on Saturday! — Penny_

Rick's cursive scrawl always looked terrible next to Penny's neat script. All his lines tilted up at the end, and Daniel had to squint at some words for about ten seconds before he realised what they said.

_Hey Danny, _it said. _What's with this guy Snape, saying you need some dicey kind of magic done on your brain just so you can cast spells more easily? If you ask me, which I'm _sure_ you will, you're better off without magic at all than risking permanent brain damage like that. You're coming down on Saturday and we'll be having it out with him, and you'd better tell him to bring some fucking good reasons before we'll ever consent to him tearing down parts of your mind. Whatever's happened recently, we both love you more than we can say, and we'll be doing what it takes to keep you safe and happy. You know that already, but I want to say it, so I have. I hope that little Blaise shit isn't giving you too hard a time, and say hi to Lisa for me. — Rick_

Daniel couldn't keep the grin off his face. Penny had still called him her son, and Rick had practically said he'd lie to Snape for him so he wouldn't have to go to the Keplers. And he was going to _see _them tomorrow, when he'd thought he might not be able to see them for _years. _

When he finally looked up, it was to see Snape watching him in bewilderment. "What?" he said automatically, not expecting to have been watched as closely as all that.

Snape frowned. "You were crying," he said.

"Oh," Daniel said, wiping away the traces of tears left in his eyes, still hopelessly happy. "Yeah, that was nothing. Are we really going to visit them tomorrow?"

"_I_ am going to visit them," Snape said through gritted teeth. "The Headmaster has arranged a home visit."

That had the grin off Daniel's face in an instant. "I don't get to go? And is _Dumbledore _going?" he asked, not sure which upset him more.

"You are not, and he is not," Snape said, looking relieved about both.

"They're expecting to see me," Daniel said, "And I want to see them."

"Nevertheless," Snape said, "I am going alone."

Daniel fought the fury and the disappointment down to where he could manage them. "Why don't I get to go?" he said.

"There is no reason for you to accompany me," Snape said, and Daniel's hackles rose at the note of satisfaction in the man's voice. "You still have schoolwork to catch up on, I believe, not to mention a detention with Professor Flitwick."

"Well I only got that detention in the first place because you gave me the most shitful lines you can imagine to do in two days and I had to stay up all night and do them in class all the time to have a chance of finishing them," Daniel said, tears blurring his vision as his voice rose. "It's completely unfair, _you _visiting _my _parents when I have to stay here all year and I don't get to go _anywhere._"He stood up, crumpling the letter tightly in his fist. "Oh and Rick said you'd better come up with some _fucking good reasons_ before they'll let you do anything at all to my brain, so if you turn up there without me he won't trust you at all because they're both expecting me, and he'll never agree, and then you'll have to go back, and bring me with you this time, like you should have the first time, if you ever want this stupid thing done!"

His face was hot, and he could only see the room in a sort of shimmer through his tears, and he just wanted to explode right then and there, all over Snape's stupid office and his smug sneering face.

"Sit down."

For a moment Daniel thought maybe the voice had actually frozen his whole body, it was so cold. Then his legs gave in and he crashed back down onto his seat. He wasn't sure if he'd done that, or if it had been Snape. He used the back of his hand to brush his tears away, stared fixedly at the floor, and started to breathe.

Snape didn't give him a chance to calm himself down, though. "Explain yourself," he said, and even though Daniel wasn't looking at him, he could tell he was leaning toward him over the desk. "You have thirty seconds."

"Um, I was angry?" Daniel said, voice still thick with anger, or tears maybe. "Because you're being completely unfair, keeping me from my parents for no reason when we all want to see each other and that would make the meeting go better anyway. You're just being mean."

"When I am 'just being mean', Mr. Livingstone, you will know," Snape said, and Daniel gulped at his tone.

"Maybe I should go," he said, standing up slowly. "Someone might want to talk to you about Blaise or something."

"Sit," Snape said.

Daniel used every inch of self-possession he had to lock his knees. "I wouldn't want to take up too much of your time," he said. "It's not like the world revolves around me, after all."

"Do you _want _to be able to do magic, ever again?" Snape asked icily. "I assure you, it would make my life a great deal easier to drop the matter entirely. You could return back to your guardians, and live the rest of your life as a Muggle."

Daniel managed to stop himself from laughing, but he knew he hadn't kept it off his face. What would Snape do if he told him that he'd _love _to go back to his parents and live with them like a Muggle forever? That the only reason he was so determined to stay at Hogwarts was because now he had nowhere else he could go? And to do _that_, he had to have magic, and to have that, he had to let them do whatever they had to do in his brain.

"No, I need the Legilimency," he said, realising Snape was waiting for an answer. "I guess you're the boss, so I don't get a say."

Snape made a funny kind of noise, so Daniel finally looked up at him. If it had been anyone else, Daniel would think they'd _laughed. _Snape's face was straight, but not really angry, which surprised Daniel a lot.

"Indeed," the man said. "You may, if you like, write a note for me to take to your guardians, apologising for your absence, and explaining to them why you, as you say, 'need the Legilimency'. I will be leaving at ten in the morning, with or without such a note."

Hah. Daniel would give him a note, all right. He got up and left, without another word to Snape, and was pleasantly surprised when Snape just let him go.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"You're going to miss lunch, you lump," Theo said, pulling back his curtains.

"Sod off," Daniel mumbled into his pillow. "Sleeping."

"If you don't get up I'll tell Draco you need his help with Charms," Theo replied.

"Fuck no," Daniel said, sitting bolt upright. "But now you've crossed _that _line, I'm putting Granger on my speed dial."

Theo grinned. "You're not going to be able to drop obscure Muggle references around me much longer, you know," he said. "I know what speed dial is now."

"Speed dial's hardly _obscure_," Daniel said. "When I start getting obscure, you'll — oh, shit. Shit, shit, _shit."_

"What?" Theo said, leaning on the wall by the door. "You're really a bad influence on us all, you know. Such a foul mouth."

"I was meant to see Snape before ten o'clock," Daniel said. "What time is it?"

"Half twelve," Theo said. "I guess you missed your appointment."

Snape was probably there _now._ Daniel flopped back onto his bed, slammed his pillow over his head and screamed into the mattress.

He lay there afterwards, not sure if it was worth making the effort to move. He could practically smell the house, and hear them talking, and picture his room, which they probably had to pack up to give all his stuff to the stupid Keplers.

"Hey," Theo said, poking him in the side. "Are you dying, or what?"

"Go _away_," Daniel said, but he could barely hear himself, since he was still talking into the mattress.

There was a tug on the pillow, so he clenched at it harder.

Something jolted through his hands, and before he knew what was happening, the pillow was gone and he felt incredibly stupid with his face pressed so firmly against the mattress, tears prickling in his eyes. And they weren't angry tears, which he could handle, they were just stupid tears. Tears for no reason. He rolled away from Theo.

"Did Snape say something?" Theo asked after a while. "I mean, seeing him all the time just seems to be making you miserable."

It was pathetic. He wanted his mother, and he wanted his father, and he wanted to go home, but the closest thing he had to home he wasn't allowed in any more, but _Snape _was, oh yeah, because he was _in charge_, and an _adult, _and wore _black_ all the time and made secret arrangements with the _headmaster_.

His birth parents, whoever the hell they were, had clearly been completely wrong about everything. Their 'help' had hurt him, Snape was just a prick, Dumbledore was worse, and having him grow up in the Muggle world was all very well until he had to try mixing it with the magical one.

So it was obvious what to do next. He sniffed, and sat up, leaning back against the headboard. "Nah," he said, wiping his eyes. "I think I'll just take a walk. Clear my mind. I have detention this afternoon anyway."

"Oh, for Flitwick?" Theo said, sounding a little too careful.

"Yeah," Daniel said. "So I guess I should get some lunch."

"Wash your face," Theo advised.

"I want to cut my hair," Daniel announced. "Is there a spell for that or something?"

"I don't think you should do that now, you're tired and everything."

"Don't be such an old woman," Daniel said scornfully. "It's my hair, I'll do what I want with it. Is there a spell?"

Theo shrugged. "Yeah, but I don't know what it is. Father does mine wordlessly."

"Well, who'd know?" Daniel pressed, starting to get annoyed. "I'm sick of it like this."

"Sick of what?" Draco asked, strolling in with Crabbe and Goyle.

Daniel felt sick. They might have come in while he was _crying_.

"He wants to cut his hair," Theo said. "I don't think it's much of an idea, really."

Draco stared at Daniel appraisingly. "I don't see why not," he said. "It might stop him from walking around looking like a yeti all the time."

"Do you know the spell?" Daniel asked, refocussing on his objective.

"Of course," Draco said. "I could do it, if you like."

"I don't want hair like _that_," Daniel said, shuddering at the thought.

Draco went pink and lifted his chin. "It wouldn't suit _you _anyway," he said.

"So, Daniel," Theo said triumphantly. "You trust your hair to Draco's wand?"

He didn't, really, but something in Theo's tone set him off. "Sure," he said.

Draco smirked, and pulled his wand out of his robes. "Any requests?" he said, spinning it thoughtfully.

Daniel shrugged. "Above the shoulders, and not bald," he said.

Draco considered him for a moment further, waved his wand, and then Daniel's head was so light he thought it might fly off his shoulders. Draco smiled a delighted smile at him, then walked over to his bed and rummaged in his trunk for something. Daniel shook his head a little, and his hair tickled his ears and his neck, while falling slightly into his eyes at the front.

He glanced at Theo, who was frowning at him.

"I'm a new man!" he announced, and quickly got changed into jeans, t-shirt and jacket. "How do I look?"

"Your hair's shorter," Theo said. "Are you coming to lunch, or not?"

Daniel didn't see what Theo's problem was. "Yeah, I'm coming," he said. "Chill out."

Theo practically ran up the stairs, and through the common room out to the corridor. Daniel jogged after him.

"What's your hurry?" Daniel asked as they walked along the corridor.

"I can't believe you let him do that," Theo said. "Are you crazy?"

"Maybe," Daniel said cheerfully. "I've decided to have a good day."

"You have no idea what you're doing," Theo told him. "You don't let _Draco _cut your _hair_."

"Well you didn't know the spell, did you?" Daniel said. "What did you think I was going to do, ask Snape?"

Theo bit his lip and kept walking.

Daniel ran to stand in front of him to stop him from walking. "What?" he demanded. "What's your problem?"

"I'm worried about _you_, you stupid prat," Theo said resentfully. "First you're grumpy, then you're over the moon, then you're screaming and crying, then you're happily getting Draco to cast spells at your head. I can't keep up."

"I wasn't screaming and crying," Daniel said, offended. "I shouted once, then maybe there were tears in my eyes after. You make it sound like I was chucking a tantrum."

Theo shrugged. "You should talk to someone. Maybe not Snape," he said. "Maybe not me, even. But someone."

Daniel shrugged right back at him. "Maybe I will," he said. "But you were the one going on about missing lunch, so come on."

Theo glared at him, grabbed his arm and pulled him along to the Great Hall.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

It had not been too difficult to convince Livingstone's guardians to consent to the procedure, despite the boy's dire predictions. They seemed rational people, and there were few things Snape did better than manipulate parents, even when they were Muggles. In the end they had consented to the Legilimency, thanked him for his time, and written a short note to Livingstone for him to carry back to school.

They had, however, said nothing about being unavailable for the holidays, or mentioned why Livingstone might have to stay at school for the whole year, even when Snape had nudged them in that direction with less than his usual subtlety. They had stayed utterly silent on the matter, to such an extent that Snape suspected it had been pre-arranged. So he slipped that fact into the back of his mind with a view to future arguments with Livingstone, returned to Hogwarts as soon as was polite and reported to Dumbledore.

Who suggested that there was no time like the present to try healing Livingstone's mind. "It will save the boy from dwelling on the matter unduly," he'd said, eyeing Snape benignly. "I have looked into the matter, and we should not need any further preparation."

And that was that, and they were doing it after dinner that very night, despite the three or so hours of marking he'd missed from going to meet the the boy's guardians. He had to be the one to inform Livingstone, of course, due to his "relationship" with the boy.


	14. Legilimency

There was nothing to hide behind, now he'd dealt with his hair. It was starting to get uncomfortable, the way people could look at him and all he could do to stay hidden from them was to keep his face still and pretend they weren't there. His neck got cold easily, too, and when his hair fell into his eyes it couldn't be tucked behind an ear any more, it just stayed there no matter how much he brushed at it.

It was terrible in Flitwick's detention, because Flitwick had him archiving sixth- and seventh-year essays, which basically meant going through piles of parchment, finding ones that had 'keep' on them in blue ink and putting them into piles depending on the grade they'd earned. Every single time he leaned forward, it fell back to get in his way. Maybe it was Draco's revenge for the crack he'd made about _his _hair. Flitwick hadn't said anything at all; he was busy going over what looked like first-year work, a small frown on his face as he read.

Terry had told him he looked way younger, and he wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not. He hadn't thought he looked particularly old in the first place. Corner and Goldstein hadn't even recognised him, and neither had Potter or Weasley when he'd plopped himself down next to them at the Gryffindor table, introduced himself as Bryan Ferry and asked them about the benefits of rats as pets compared to cats.

Funny, how if they didn't know you were a Slytherin they were totally friendly and happy to chat. Weasley had quite a lot to say on the subject, surprisingly, coming down very harshly on cats in general, and on homicidal ginger tomcats in particular. Potter had clearly heard it all before, reminding Weasley that Scabbers had been ill since Egypt, and to remember what the wizard in the pet shop had said about garden rat lifespans. Weasley was beyond reason, complaining that Scabbers had been in the family for more than ten years and he'd never looked this bad _before, _because Hermione had never had a bloody great savage rat-hunting _beast _before.

Daniel hadn't left the table with any improved opinion of Gryffindor intelligence, sadly, only with the discouraging information that Weasley kept the rat up in his dormitory more than he'd used to, because of Crookshanks roaming Gryffindor Tower. So now as he flipped through the stacks of parchment looking for blue ink he let himself dwell on those couple of little things that didn't really add up about Weasley's old rat.

First, rats just didn't live that long. Khan was the third rat Goyle had owned, and he was getting pretty old at nearly four years. For Weasley's rat to be more than ten years old something funny had to be going on.

And the name, as well. Black had _definitely _called it Peter, but to Weasley and everyone else the thing was Scabbers. Weasley had had no peculiar reaction to Daniel calling it Peter, he'd just corrected him absently and gone back to whining about Granger's cat. So either Black had completely the wrong rat, or it had two names and one of them was a secret, or Black was crazier than Daniel thought.

Daniel scratched his tingling neck just as there was a soft knock on the door. Flitwick read for a moment longer, then raised his eyes and said, "Come in."

Daniel tried to remember if Black had only said Peter once. He had a feeling it had happened at least twice, which meant it probably wasn't a slip of the tongue.

"Filius," Snape said from behind him. "Has Livingstone finished his detention already?"

Daniel held in a chuckle at that, just glancing up to see Flitwick smiling wryly. "Nearly," he said. "Have you need of him?"

"Yes, I — " Snape broke off, and Daniel's neck started to prickle. He reached up to rub it, and his hair fell into his eyes again.

"I see," Snape said. "How much longer will he be here?"

"I think that will do," Flitwick said, leaning back and rubbing his eyes. "Thank you, Mr. Livingstone, that is a great help to me."

Trust Flitwick to thank him for doing a detention he'd given him himself.

"No problem," he said, rising from his chair and neatening the piles he'd made. Then he turned to Snape, who was watching him guardedly. "How were my folks?"

"Let us not keep from Professor Flitwick any more than is necessary," Snape said. "Your guardians are in good health, and we shall discuss this further in my office."

"I'm sick of offices," Daniel commented, sticking his hands in his jacket pockets and following Snape out of the room with a farewell smile at Flitwick before he closed the door after them. "Did they say you could do it?"

"They did," Snape said, walking so fast Daniel had to half-jog to keep up.

Well, damn. So much for _fucking good reasons_. "Did they ask why I didn't come?"

"They did, and when I explained the circumstances they wrote you another missive."

"Does that just mean note?" Daniel asked, "Because you could just _say _note, you know."

"Indeed," Snape said, more calmly than Daniel had expected.

"Can I see it, then?"

Snape reached into a pocket and held out a neatly folded piece of paper. Daniel grabbed it and unfolded it eagerly, stumbling to keep pace with Snape's long strides.

_Danny_, Rick had scrawled. _Sorry to hear you're snowed under at the moment, but _ —

He walked into Snape then, who had slowed to avoid walking through the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff ghosts, who were cruising slowly along the corridor in quiet conversation. Snape didn't seem to have any kind of reaction, so Daniel went back to reading his _missive_.

_Sorry to hear you're snowed under at the moment, but you've always said this Snape guy's a decent sort, and he's made a lot of sense, so we've okayed the procedure. He's not really what I thought a wizard would be like, he was very calm and business-like. A lot like some of Penny's friends, actually, she really -_

"Livingstone!" Snape called, from kind of far away. Daniel looked up and realised that while reading he'd stopped walking completely, and Snape apparently had sped up again. Daniel jogged to catch up to him, and when he had, dropped his eyes back to his letter.

— _got on with him. You know what she's like with__dark-haired strangers. I hope —_

The note was tugged quickly out of his fingers. "Hey!" Daniel protested loudly. "I was _reading _that!"

"You may have it back when we arrive," Snape said, tucking it away again. "Or once you learn to walk and read concurrently."

"What's your hurry anyway?" Daniel said. "It's not like we're doing it _right now_."

"Is that so?" Snape asked mildly, making Daniel stop dead.

"We're not doing it _now_," he said, looking around himself frantically. "I'm not ready to do it now."

Snape turned to face him, face dark. "It is not your readiness that is required," he said.

Daniel took a step back. "I don't want to," he said.

Snape _growled_, and strode towards him. Something in Daniel broke down, and he spun and ran.

Into solid air, somehow. He stumbled back from it, and in no time Snape was holding him firmly by the shoulders.

"Get off," he said breathlessly. "I don't want you to do it, leave me alone."

"Last night you said you _needed_ Legilimency, you daft child," Snape said impatiently. "You may be frightened, but that is no excuse for losing your head in such a way, in a public place. Now come."

"I want someone else there," Daniel said. "Not just you and Dumbledore. Someone for me."

Snape let go of him, and he briefly considered running again, but planted his feet. Snape was right, it was a pretty dumb reaction of him to have.

"The headmaster and I are the only staff trained in Legilimency," Snape said. "To what end would you request a chaperone?"

Daniel thought about that for a moment. "To make me feel better?" he offered weakly.

Snape looked at him, his mouth twisted. "Whom would you like?" he asked reluctantly.

_My parents_, Daniel thought bitterly. "Flitwick?" he said, not able to think of another adult he kind of trusted.

"Professor Flitwick has better things to do than hold your hand," Snape said, brows snapping together.

"Why don't you ask _him _that?" Daniel said, voice rising. "Just because _you _don't care about your students doesn't mean nobody else does!"

"Silence!" Snape said harshly. "Have you forgotten where you are?"

Daniel had, really. A couple of older students further down the hall had turned to stare at them. "Your office then, I guess," Daniel said, and started to walk.

Snape strode beside him, not quite as quickly as before. "I was under the impression you wished this matter kept secret," he said. "Have you changed your mind?"

"It's not like _they've _been right about anything so far," Daniel said softly, digging his hands into his pockets again, not looking at Snape. "I don't see why I should go along with anything they said any more."

"How have your studies been progressing?" Snape asked.

It took Daniel a moment to process the change in topic. "Okay, I guess," he said.

"Elaborate."

Daniel sighed. "You know about Charms," he said. "That's okay, and Transfiguration's fine like usual. I can't really do Arithmancy at all, though."

"You should consider changing subjects, if you feel you have no aptitude," Snape said. "You have until Friday to do so."

"Everything else is just as bad though," Daniel said. "I mean, Divination's a crock, Hagrid's a crock, and I practically _am _a Muggle."

"I believe Professor Burbage is enjoying having a Muggleborn student in her class," Snape said.

"Yeah but Theo says it's a lot of research and essays, and I'm crap at all that," Daniel said. "Do you think I should just fake my way through Divination like everyone else?"

"There are some merits to understanding common signs and omens," Snape said evenly. "You may even have a talent for it, which you would not discover without looking into the discipline."

"They have an eight o'clock class though," Daniel said, wrinkling his nose.

"It is your choice, of course," Snape said. "I take it you have no problem with Ancient Runes?"

"No, it's great," Daniel said. "You have to think more than you have to write, which is good, and I like the class."

"And Defence?" Snape said, voice tightening just a little, probably at the thought of Lupin and Longbottom's Boggart.

"Uh," Daniel said, trying to think of something positive to say. It would help if he could remember a single thing they'd learned, apart from all that stuff from the Boggart lesson. "I apologised to Lupin like you said."

Luckily they arrived at Snape's office then. Snape ushered Daniel in and closed the door behind them.

"I don't want Dumbledore looking around in my mind," Daniel said as soon as he heard the door close. "But I won't even be able to tell if he does, will I? Or you might, and I won't know, because I forgot what happened last time, and he could do _anything._"

"I believe the headmaster intends to allow you the use of his Pensieve," Snape said, moving to his desk and sitting down. "It will allow you to remove memories you do not wish seen by others."

"Oh," Daniel said, following him slowly. "How does that work?"

"It is an intuitive process," Snape said. "Would you like to finish reading your _note _now?"

"Yes," Daniel said, holding his hand out enthusiastically. Snape produced the note, and Daniel grabbed it eagerly.

_I hope you're doing okay, and it all goes well. Snape said he'd let us know as soon as you woke up how you were, so we'll be waiting for good news. Penny's talking to him about more details, but I know it would go over my head, so I'll give you her love as well, you know how she'd say it._

Underneath, Rick had drawn the little cartoon of the three of them holding hands, Daniel as a little kid in the middle wearing those huge boots he'd loved so much, and worn out in just a year. Daniel stared at it wistfully.

"Are we just doing it down here?" he asked, no longer especially interested.

"No," Snape said. "We will go to the hospital wing once everything is decided."

"What's to decide?" Daniel said gloomily. "I open my brain to you and hope everything goes well, right?"

"In essence, yes," Snape said. "You need to be apprised beforehand of possible outcomes and reactions your mind might have."

"Like the sleepy thing?" Daniel said hopefully. "That wasn't so bad."

Snape breathed deeply. "We will be attempting to remove a wall placed in your mind that has insinuated itself into your mental processes," he said slowly and intently. "As you have grown older, it has become more ingrained in your subconscious. It may take several weeks to restore your mind to full working condition, even if the attempt is a complete success."

Daniel swallowed. "What if it isn't?"

Snape looked at him solemnly, and Daniel was at the same time reassured and unsettled. "I will do my best for you," Snape said. "There are contingency plans in place, in case there are complications."

_Snape will do right by you…_

"You may have issues with your memory, with thought processes or with physical co-ordination," Snape continued. "You are too young for the effects to be predictable, but those are the most likely."

"But it's stuff that'll get better, right?" Daniel said, not game to think too deeply about what he'd just heard.

"Yes," Snape said.

"Okay," Daniel said, taking the man's word for it gratefully.

"Let us be on our way then," Snape said, standing and walking back around the desk.

Really, it had hardly been worth going all the way down to the dungeons for _that. _Daniel got up too, trying to brush his hair back from his forehead.

"What prompted you to cut your hair?" Snape asked, stopping suddenly.

"I told you," Daniel muttered. "They haven't been right about _anything_."

"You do look more like them, now," the man said thoughtfully. "Some teachers may notice."

"Fine," Daniel said. "I don't care."

"I find it odd," Snape said, "That you have never asked me about them."

"I find it odd," Daniel echoed, "That you were in such a hurry before, and now you're standing around gabbing about my long-gone parents."

"Very well," Snape said. "On our way to the hospital wing, you should think through your memories and decide which you would like removed. Do not remove any associated with your parents, your necklace or spellcasting."

Daniel lagged behind him all the way up to the hospital wing, thinking hard about what he had that Snape and Dumbledore shouldn't see.

Everything to do with Black, obviously enough, including his talk with the Gryffindors about the rat. Lisa's breakdown, Dean's complaints about Snape. The Slytherin meetings about Hagrid. His talk with Theo about the holidays. All his efforts at the Animagus transformation, and the study too. The Dean and Seamus thing. Him crying over Snape visiting his parents. The moment when his parents had told him he was being moved on, the day he'd run away to Hogwarts from the Keplers'. He shuddered at the thought of Snape seeing all of that. This Pensieve thing had better work, or he was in serious trouble.

Then, with a start, he thought of all the things that happened at home that had apparently made his parents "unacceptable guardians" in the first place. He could hardly cut out _all_ the times they'd let him have a drink with them, or given him a cigarette, or brought strangers home who'd stayed the night, or let him drive the car when he was bored and the streets were empty. He'd have nothing left. And it wasn't like they were actually investigating his past, anyway. They were just undoing what the necklace had done. And they probably wouldn't know enough about Muggle life to realise that kind of stuff wasn't normal.

With a sigh, he started to think through his first two years at Hogwarts.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

It was understandable for the boy to be apprehensive, but did he have to walk so _slowly_? Clearly to walk at any sensible speed, he couldn't be occupied with anything so mentally challenging as reading, or thinking.So Snape forced himself to relax his pace, and used the extra time it took to reach the hospital wing to mentally prepare for the conversation he intended to have with Dumbledore afterwards, about the complete lack of assistance he'd offered for the effort to discover Zabini's attackers. For attackers there definitely had been, and though Morgan had been dealt with, there was another one still in the school.

When they reached the hospital wing, Snape waved Livingstone through the door, to make sure the boy didn't try fleeing again. From the defeated look he got, he knew he had been right to be suspicious. He directed him to the far corner of the room, where Poppy had set up three chairs, a table and a curtain, as Snape had requested. Dumbledore was standing by a window about halfway down the wing, staring thoughtfully out over the grounds. He nodded slightly to acknowledge their entry, but didn't make any move towards them. He was remaining distant to put the boy more at ease, Snape supposed. He felt a sudden burst of irritation at the headmaster, but he quashed it with an ease developed through years of practice.

"Now, Livingstone," Snape said, and propelled the boy over to the empty Pensieve. "I will place my wand at your temple, and you will think of the memory you wish removed. I will then place that memory in the Pensieve, and we will repeat as many times as necessary. Understand?"

Livingstone nodded, but Snape waited until the boy rolled his eyes and said, "I understand," before raising his wand.

He had to repeat it twenty-eight times before Livingstone was finished, by which time the boy was swaying on his feet and looking decidedly queasy.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"I'm gonna be sick," Daniel said, staring down at all his secret memories swirling around in the Pensieve, so exposed. His head felt light and wobbly, and he was having trouble standing upright. "I'm really — "

Then he _was_ sick, turning away from the Pensieve just in time. As soon as he imagined what might have happened to his memories if he hadn't, he was sick again, dropping to his knees and feeling vaguely glad that he had had his hair cut before this had happened.

His jacket was making him too hot, but he was shivering as well, neck freezing cold and prickly besides.

Someone tugged him up by the back of his jacket and pushed him at the armchair sitting in the corner. "Sit there," Snape said. "And calm yourself."

Daniel flung himself backwards into the chair and glared at Snape resentfully. "Can I have water?" he asked pointedly. Didn't Snape know _anything_? And he could do without Dumbledore standing staring out the window like that, like he thought he was being _polite _or _respectful _or something. He huddled back in his chair, drawing his feet up under him.

"Shoes off," Snape said, handing him a glass of water and draping a sheet over the Pensieve and casting a quick spell over it.

"How many hands do you think I have?" Daniel said. He drank his water slowly, trying to ignore the revolting taste in his mouth. Once he was done he handed the glass back to Snape, and set to unlacing his boots.

"During the procedure I will be directing your thoughts when necessary, to enable the headmaster access to the necessary parts of your mind," Snape said, pulling up a chair next to Daniel's. "You will have to strive to maintain contact with me if you wish this to go by as smoothly as possible. You were adept at maintaining your concentration during our last session, so I don't foresee any problems in that area. I will keep you shielded from the headmaster's work, and monitor your external health."

"So it'll be him, then," Daniel said. "He'll be the one messing around."

"The headmaster will not be _messing around_," Snape said scornfully. "You would do well to be grateful for his assistance."

"Whatever," Daniel said. "I'm ready, then."

Snape got up and went over to Dumbledore, they talked for a little bit, then both came back to where Daniel was waiting for them. Snape closed the curtains around them as Dumbledore sat next to Daniel, and he felt a wave of claustrophobia go through him. He tried to do his breathing to calm down, but Dumbledore was talking, and he kind of had to pay attention.

"Are you prepared, Mr. Livingstone?" he asked, glancing at Daniel over his glasses.

Daniel shrugged and wiggled a bit further back in the chair. "I guess," he said.

Dumbledore nodded, and Snape sat on Daniel's other side.

"If I die or something," Daniel said suddenly, "You'll tell my parents I love them, right? And tell Theo sorry for being a nutcase, and say sorry to Seamus and Dean for not being able to help them out, and wish Lisa well with Goldstein and everything?"

"You will not die, Mr. Livingstone," Snape said heavily. "I will see to it."

"Well I've told you what I want you to say if I do, anyway," Daniel said. "So go ahead and do it, I'm ready."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel fell through his own mind even slower than it he had the last time, kind of like he was watching a video on half speed.

"Nod if you can hear me," Snape said softly. Daniel nodded, focussing in on the man's voice and not the replays of his own life.

"Now I know you don't have your wand," Snape continued, "but I want you to set your mind in a position as though you were about to cast a light charm, understand?"

Daniel nodded again, and extended his arm as though he were holding his wand. He was about to pretend to cast the spell, when the world fell out from under him.

He spun around for a while, no idea which way was up or down, or where he was, exactly. It occurred to him to wonder where the room had gone. Then, a thought came through the jumbled mess with perfect clarity, easing him into a kind of equilibrium. _Livingstone_, he thought, _Try again._

But _he _hadn't thought that, Daniel thought vaguely. As if he'd call _himself_ Livingstone.

_Cast again, Livingstone. _The words rippled through his mind, soothing the chaos around him. So he raised his wand again, even though his hand was empty, and went to cast Lumos. _Good_, he thought. _Now I want you to remember the messages from the necklace. Don't make any effort to let me in as you did previously, just remember._

It was Snape, Daniel realised dimly. He fought his way through everything around him, trying to come to a place where he could just settle down and think_. _

_Stop that,_ Snape said. _I said __remember__, not conduct your own personal experiments._

_I need space to think, _Daniel retorted automatically. _It's too confusing here_.

The world stopped its spin for a sickening moment, then resettled into its whirl of thoughts. Daniel could feel that there was a pattern in there somewhere, but to identify it was beyond him.

_What does the necklace look like to you? _Snape asked.

Daniel tried to set his mind to answering that question, but before he could think of a single word to say, Snape was talking to him again. _Good, _he said. _Now, the first message. You told me they informed you of your magical ability._

Again, before Daniel could frame any kind of answer, Snape spoke again. _Yes, good, _he said. _You are doing very well._

That was weird, but Daniel didn't really care. He half-closed his eyes, except obviously not, since he was inside his own head, but it felt like that was what he was doing, so it didn't matter. He felt like he was lying on a raft in mid-air or something, and maybe Snape was holding him steady while the other guy kept knocking his support out from under him. But that would make it some kind of a really tall table, not a raft at all, so that didn't work. Maybe he was up in space, with no gravity, and Snape was holding onto him and onto a wall, but the other guy was pulling at him from somewhere else, and his hand was getting slippery. That was kind of what it felt like.

He didn't know how long he floated like that, occasionally being prompted by Snape to think of one thing or another, and then being dismissed before he'd hardly started. It wasn't that bad, really, once he'd got used to it. Eventually things started to get fuzzy, or fuzzier, anyway, and he started to float higher and higher, leaving his spinning thoughts far behind him.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel opened his eyes slowly, feeling an almost crippling sense of déja-vu. His ears felt stretchy, his chest felt kind of weak and there was a strange soft feeling in his head.

"Whu —" he said, and raised his head slightly before his energy gave out and he went back to just lying there, eyes closed.

Footsteps moved from near his bed to further away. "Madame Pomfrey," Theo said loudly. "He's awake again."

More footsteps came toward his bed. "Mr. Livingstone," Pomfrey said from nearby. "Can you hear me?"

The bed was pretty damn soft. Maybe he'd get himself put in the hospital wing more often, if the beds were always like this.

"He _is _awake, I can tell," Theo said. "Daniel! At least open your eyes again."

Daniel did as he was told, peering up at the two faces over his bed blearily. "Gnng," he said. "Still."

"I'll get Professor Snape," Theo said.

"I can contact him," Pomfrey said, and bustled off.

"Daniel," Theo said softly. "Can you _please _stay awake this time? Snape can't check you for damage unless you stay awake the whole time."

Daniel wasn't damaged, he could tell. Everything felt fine, kind of quiet and fuzzy. He had so much space in his head he could fall back into, if anything was too hard.

"Say your name," Theo said. "Stay awake."

"Caden Seaver," Daniel said, and Theo's eyes went huge. Daniel was kind of confused himself.


	15. A Wizard Again

He woke up again a little while later, to the sound of quiet voices from very close to his bed. It sounded nice, one deep voice and one lighter one, mixing together into a soothing kind of rumble, so pleasant that he started to drop off again. Then both voices stopped at the same time, jolting him out of his haze.

"Daniel," the lighter voice said. "Can you stay awake _this _time?"

Daniel opened his eyes reluctantly. "Nice here," he said.

"I know. But Professor Snape really needs to see how you are."

"Fine," Daniel told him. "Tell him hurry up."

"My eyes, Livingstone," Snape said, leaning over him. Daniel looked up, and faded out.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

There had been all kinds of gunk running down his throat, Daniel could tell as soon as he woke up. There were a million horrible tastes fighting over each other in his mouth, and his stomach was heavy and a bit mixed up.

"Hey," he said, sitting up. No one was inside the curtain with him, but he had vague memories of being hovered over endlessly, so there had to be someone around. "Anyone there?"

He wasn't sure how he could tell there was _someone._ It was like the quiet just got a lot quieter, or something. Like the feeling he had whenever he was trying to be quiet late at night at home, but he just _knew _he'd already woken someone up.

He lay back down as heavily as he could, and slowed down his breathing back to like he was sleeping. He strained his ears, and eventually he heard someone else breathing, maybe sitting just outside the curtain. Once he'd pretty much worked out where they were, he sat up, swung himself out of bed and flung open the curtains.

Draco stared at him guiltily, slicked-back blond hair gleaming in the low light.

"Ha," Daniel said softly. "And what are _you _doing here?"

Draco got to his feet slowly. "I just thought since Theo was in our rooms, maybe someone should be with you," he said just as quietly, stumbling a little over the words.

"Right," said Daniel. "And you decided to sit _outside _my curtain and pretend you weren't there when I asked because you thought someone should be _with_ me."

"They said you needed to rest," Draco said. "I thought you'd just go back to sleep."

Daniel considered that. "I don't believe you," he said. "You didn't want me to know you were here, I can tell that much."

"They wouldn't tell me what was wrong with you and they said no one could visit you, so I came up here to look while no one was here, but I have to wait until Filch goes past before I can get back down without being caught," Draco said, all in a rush. "They said you were in a precarious mental state, and I didn't want to mess anything up, okay?"

Something snagged in Daniel's mind then, a shadow of a reminder of something wrong, and he had to grab and hold onto the curtain to stay upright as the world started to blur around him. He started to get impossibly heavy, and his legs folded.

"Shit," Draco said, grabbing him under the arms and holding him up. "Go lie down, I'll get Pomfrey. See, this is what I didn't want to happen."

"No, just lemme sit," Daniel said, closing his eyes.

He felt himself lowered slowly to the ground, until maybe he got a bit too heavy and Draco had to just let him drop. It jolted him a bit, but he was too busy putting his head down and breathing to care.

Once he felt well enough to raise his head, he realised there was a hand on his shoulder, and Draco was crouched beside him.

"Do you want me to get her?" he asked, sounding worried.

"I'm okay now," Daniel said, forcing himself gradually to his feet, grateful for Draco's hand steadying him as he rose. "I guess I got up too quick. Which is your fault, by the way."

Draco huffed as he followed Daniel inside the curtain. "Next time you have a visitor try _not_ leaping out at them like a madman," he said.

"Next time you visit me try answering when I ask if someone's there," Daniel retorted, hopping up onto the bed.

Draco frowned. "I'm not supposed to be here in the first place," he said.

"What time is it?"

Draco raised his shoulder in what he probably thought was a dignified alternative to a shrug. "Early morning," he said.

Daniel stared at him for a good while then, determined to work out what the _hell_ he was about. Draco lifted his chin and returned the look with just a hint of defensiveness. His cheeks were that pale pink again, and his left leg was jiggling, and it occurred to Daniel then that maybe he'd been thinking about Draco's behaviour from entirely the wrong angle.

"I really appreciate your helping me out," he said, watching carefully for a reaction. "Today and before."

Yup, the blush _definitely _deepened, and the smile was small and self-conscious. Well. That was interesting, and more than a bit disturbing.

"It's no big thing," Draco said casually. "You've helped me before."

They heard brisk footsteps coming towards them and exchanged a glance. Draco made an abrupt gesture for Daniel to lie down, and quickly seated himself in one of the chairs next to the bed.

"I asked Crabbe and Goyle if they had any messages for you, if you were awake," Draco said smoothly as Daniel slid under the covers. "Goyle said he hoped you got better soon, and Crabbe said, and I quote, 'Serve the bugger right if he has to go to Mungo's as well'. That's much politer than his usual, I assure you. He must really miss you."

The curtains opened, and Snape walked in.

"Oh, hello, Professor Snape," Draco said, standing politely and offering no explanation for why he was there.

"Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, looking tired. "I assume you do not have permission to be here."

"I have Daniel's permission," Draco said.

"Mr. Livingstone does not have the authority to allow you to be out of your bed at this time," Snape said. "I suggest you return there immediately."

"Yes, sir," Draco said, half-nodding and half-bowing to their teacher. "Good night."

He left quickly and quietly, grabbing up his wand from the table by the bed as he went.

"He was not bothering you, I trust," Snape said, taking the seat Draco had just left and waving his wand in a pattern Daniel recognised as some kind of silence spell.

"Nah," Daniel said. "Just keeping me company."

"Hm," Snape said to that. "It seems you are sufficiently alert to discuss your condition with me."

"You warded us, right?"

Snape nodded.

"I remember stuff I never knew," Daniel said, letting himself finally feel worried. "Like when Theo asked my name, it was like automatic to say that other thing, even though I didn't actually know it at the time. And then when I fell asleep or whatever after that there were all these other things I was almost remembering, but not quite. Whenever I try to think about that stuff, I think my brain cuts out or something, too. Is that them, again? Hiding stuff from me?"

Snape sighed. "Now is not the time for a lengthy explanation," he said. "Explain what you say about your brain 'cutting out'."

"Like fainting," Daniel said, embarrassed. "Like it can't stand up to me thinking about that stuff."

Snape nodded. "It will take some time for your mind to accustom itself to its altered structure," he said.

"So it went okay, then," Daniel said. "Have you told my parents?"

"I will contact them in the morning," Snape said. "Before they are brought up to date, I will require an assessment of your spellpower."

_Magic. _Daniel had almost forgotten that was why this had all happened. "I can cast now?" he said, fingers itching dreadfully.

Snape handed him his wand. "A very small Lumos, if you will," he said.

"_Lumos_," Daniel said enthusiastically, and his wand flared so bright his eyeballs ached even after he closed his eyes and put his other hand over them.

"Small, I said," Snape complained, but Daniel was lost in the wash of his first successful spell in what seemed like years. "_Finite_," Snape snapped. "I was aware your reading comprehension left something to be desired, Livingstone, but I had thought you could at least follow simple verbal instructions."

"Sorry," Daniel lied cheerfully. He could do _magic. _It was almost like back in first year, this overwhelming joy at casting the simplest of spells. "I guess you can tell them I'm good now, then."

"Would you like your memories back, now?" Snape said, the false courtesy in his voice so strong it set Daniel's teeth on edge.

"You won't be looking in my mind any more, then?" Daniel said, opening his eyes and trying to find Snape's face through the afterglow in his eyes from his Lumos. "That's it?"

"I have had more than enough of your mind for the time being," Snape said. "Memories, or no?"

Daniel nodded. "Yeah," he said. "I want them back now."

Snape stared at him balefully.

"Yes _please_," Daniel said impatiently.

The glare just got fiercer.

"Um, can I have them back now please sir?" Daniel tried.

"Mean it," Snape growled. "You want them back, so ask properly."

Daniel sighed. Some of the memories he could probably do without. But the longer they sat in that Pensieve thing, the likelier it got that someone else might get into them. Besides, he still wanted to be an Animagus. So he did want the memories, and Snape had them.

He forced himself to meet the man's glower, and _mean it. _"Can I please have my memories back?" he asked, as humbly as he could manage.

Snape regarded him for a moment longer, then nodded and stood up. He tapped his wand on some air between Daniel's bed and the wall, and the Pensieve appeared there.

"Cool," Daniel commented. "Was it just invisible?"

"Disillusioned," Snape said absently. "Now come and stand here."

Daniel got up, slowly this time, and made his way over next to Snape, who placed his wand over the silver swirls until one jumped up and attached itself. Then he placed the wand to Daniel's temple, and Daniel had a sudden impression of being cold, wet and running about like a crazy person. The next one brought a sense of great discomfort, and a quick flash of Lisa crying helplessly and avoiding his eyes.

Each memory Snape slipped back into his mind made him stand a little bit firmer, and feel a little more alive. It was only when the Pensieve was empty that he realised Snape was holding his elbow, and there were tears on his cheeks.

Damn.

"External receipt of emotional memories is often far more traumatic than one expects," Snape said blandly, steering him over to the bed.

Daniel stared at him. "Where did you _learn _to talk like that?" he asked, sitting up against the headboard. "I never know what you're saying."

"Mr. Nott will be here before eight in the morning to escort you to your dormitory," Snape said, disillusioning the Pensieve again. "For the time being, you will always be accompanied by a housemate, who can assist you if your brain _cuts out _without warning."

"All I have to do is put my head down for a moment and I'm fine," Daniel protested. "I don't need watchers."

"Nevertheless, watchers you shall have," Snape said. "Now go back to sleep. You have classes in the morning."

Snape was long gone by the time Daniel realised what that meant. He'd missed Sunday, _again_.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Shazam!" Daniel cried, flourishing his wand at Seamus. "Mekka lekka hi! Mekka hiney ho!"

Pretty much everyone was staring at him now as they waited outside Charms for the door to open. He smiled around at them all. "I'm a wizard," he announced gladly.

Seamus gave him a bemused smile, and Theo started to hit the back of his head slowly against the wall he was leaning on. Looking around, Daniel could see a few knowing grins. Dean's was the biggest, but Justin was chuckling as he muttered to McMillan, and Granger was nodding her understanding to nobody in particular. Ravenclaws weren't there yet, which was odd. They weren't usually late.

Figuring it was nearly nine, Daniel started to watch the door to the classroom intently. As soon as he saw movement, he waved his wand again. "Open sesame!" he commanded, and the first-years poured out and past him. "Ha," he said triumphantly. "I command vast powers."

"Find some dignity, would you?" Draco muttered in his ear as they squeezed through the doorway.

"Dignity's for boring people," Daniel told him.

He sat next to Theo, and Draco went to sit far, far away. Daniel decided not to even wonder what he might be thinking. Instead, he looked around to see if any Ravenclaws were in the room yet. There weren't, and now Flitwick had noticed. He looked concerned.

"Has anybody seen a Ravenclaw yet today?" he asked, walking slowly to the door to check the corridor.

People all around shook their heads, and there were a few mumbled "no"s.

"Padma was at breakfast," the Gryffindor Patil said, starting to look worried herself. Flitwick walked back to his position up the front of the class, and started to rummage through one of his drawers.

He stopped when all seven Ravenclaws came rushing into the room.

"Sorry," Brocklehurst gasped, as they all stood there catching their breath.

"Lost track of time," Terry added. He was usually a pretty good liar, but you'd have to be a Hufflepuff to think _that _was the truth.

"Take your seats," Flitwick said. "Ten points from Ravenclaw."

They all seemed to accept that as fair, and sat along the empty row in a very, very interesting order. Corner stalked all the way to the end and sat in a huff, followed by Terry, Patil, McDougall, Brocklehurst, Lisa, then Goldstein. Daniel hadn't seen the three boys separated before, in any class, no matter how much they'd been fighting.

Charms was _brilliant_. He was well on track with the theory, since it was all he'd been doing in class recently, and his charms were easily the strongest during the practical session, no matter how hard he tried to dampen them. Flitwick was pleased for him, but seemed kind of distracted all class. If even Daniel could tell there was something wrong in Ravenclaw, it must be stinking obvious to their head of house.

He couldn't help but grin to himself as Longbottom and Morris stayed behind and he sauntered out with everyone else.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

His good mood lasted all the way through History, which he spent sitting with Terry, Corner and the Ravenclaw Patil, figuring he'd be spending enough time with his _watchers_ that he could sit with whoever the hell he wanted during class. They were pretty good company, if he ignored all of Corner's insults that were directed at him and at Slytherin, and just appreciated all the other ones.

Patil was getting subtler in her fancy for Terry, thankfully. He was getting a bit sick of all the sap hanging in the air these days. Dean and Seamus weren't too bad since Seamus seemed determined that they be a secret, and he was used to Blaise and Daphne being together, but Lisa and Goldstein were causing far too much drama, Terry was caught between Patil and Brocklehurst, and Daniel was sick to the teeth of hearing about Granger from Theo, of all people. Spending more time with Draco was absolutely out of the question for a million reasons, so if he wanted to spend time with sensible people, his choices were pretty much Millicent, Morag McDougall, Hufflepuffs or people from other years.

Or he supposed he could try to befriend a _Gryffindor. _

While the Ravenclaws he was sitting with were arguing about the application of some rare spell or something, he looked around at the Gryffindors thoughtfully.

Potter and Weasley were out, because they'd never have anything to do with him anyway. He was surprised they hadn't confronted him about lying about his name earlier, but then maybe they'd forgotten already. Granger was possibly an even worse idea, considering Theo. Dean and Seamus didn't count as Gryffindors, which left only Longbottom from the boys.

Now _that _was an idea. Longbottom was colossally stupid, and didn't seem to have any real friends. Daniel was sure he could play him pretty well. Maybe _he _could be the way to the rat, since Dean and Seamus were far too used to Daniel to be easily fooled by him.

He looked for a moment at Brown and the Gryffindor Patil, but looked away hurriedly as Brown glanced up at him. Brown was too giggly, he decided, and Patil was just as stuck up as her twin, but with far less reason to be. Both Patils were pretty, but the Gryffindor one knew it too well. No, it would be Longbottom or nobody.

With that decided, Daniel started to pay attention to the conversation around him again.

" - boss all of a sudden," Corner was saying. "Just because he has a girlfriend now doesn't mean he's better than us."

Patil was shaking her head. "It's not because he has a girlfriend, you idiot," she said. "It's because you two couldn't handle him having a girlfriend."

"We could handle it perfectly well," Terry said. "If he'd just kept acting like himself. He's putting on airs now, you know he is."

"It's like he thinks she's more important than anyone else," Corner complained. "We've been friends for years, and now he's above it all."

"She's his girlfriend," Daniel pointed out. "She's meant to be the most important thing."

"What would you know?" Corner snapped. "You wouldn't go out with her even when she was practically begging you to."

Daniel shrugged. "She's my friend," he said.

"I bet you could take her back off him," Corner said suddenly. "You could do that, right?"

"Michael, you are all kinds of rotten," Terry said, and Patil nodded sanctimoniously. "Anthony's really good for Lisa, and Daniel knows he wouldn't be."

"I would too!" Daniel protested, then thought for a second. "I mean, I probably wouldn't be, but there's no need to _say _so_._"

Patil giggled, not bothered by the glare Daniel sent her way. "You're both being stupid about Anthony," she declared. "And he's being stupid about you."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "_Boys_," he said disdainfully, making Terry and Corner laugh, and Patil look at him suspiciously. "What?" he said. "That's what you were thinking, don't deny it. You're such a girl."

She just looked confused, then.

"I'm thinking of dropping Arithmancy," Daniel said then. "What do you think I should take instead?"

"Divination," Terry and Patil said together, and the three Ravenclaws all burst out laughing.

"I wonder if you get access to Trelawney's liquor," Corner said. "I don't see any other reason you'd ever go up there willingly."

"Parvati still thinks it's brilliant," Patil said, sounding frustrated. "Says Trelawney's a genius, and she's predicted all kinds of things."

"Well, I predicted the points Flitwick was going to take this morning," Corner said. "But I don't go around blathering about my Inner Eye and making myself out like some grand prophet."

"You should probably take Muggle Studies," Terry said.

"Oh yes, do that," Patil said enthusiastically. "It might shut Hermione up for a while, at least, having another Muggleborn in the class, then we could spend time on what actually matters."

"I probably will," Daniel said, letting the Muggleborn comment slide. After all, he wasn't supposed to know that he wasn't one, so why should anyone else? "I mean, my other choice is Magical Creatures, and I've heard that's just a complete waste of time, ever since the hippogriff thing."

"It is," Patil said. "Flobberworms for ever and ever and ever and ever. _Flobberworms._"

"I thought Hagrid liked dangerous creatures," Terry said. "Hippogriffs, you know."

"He's completely lost his nerve," Patil said despondently. "The Slytherins aren't helping either, treating him like he's some kind of, oh, what are they called, um, those Muggle things that explode, about to go off."

"Bombs," Daniel supplied, happy to hear that his plan was working so well. "You're telling me Draco's afraid of Hagrid now?"

"Yeah, they all stand around him like he needs protecting. I knew he was a coward, but I didn't realise he was that _pathetic,_ really," Patil said. "It gets to Hagrid like you wouldn't believe, sometimes he looks at them like he's about to cry."

"At least Flobberworms are safe, I guess," Daniel said, trying to think of a way to change the subject before he lost control and started laughing.

Binns voice stopped then, so he just grabbed his bag up and let them think his grin was just because class was ending.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

They were talking about Livingstone, Snape realised. As if he hadn't had enough of that boy recently, Corner and Boot were busy chatting about him over their admittedly adequate half-brewed Timorous Potions.

"He's alright, I guess," Corner said softly. "A bit spaced-out sometimes, I thought, but he's not half so bad as Malfoy, or that Nott kid he hangs out with."

"Oh, Nott's okay," Boot murmured. "Boring, though. Daniel's really smart with magic, like he's got a feel for it. If you've got a project, I'm telling you, you should get his help on it."

Corner frowned, and Snape absently lifted Abbott's hand to prevent her from adding a dangerous amount of crushed shiverweed. He didn't bother rebuking her, though: even a silent correction always had her berating _herself_ for at least half an hour.

"His marks aren't that good, I thought," Corner said. "Last year he was always getting help in study hall. I thought he was kind of dumb."

"Oh, he is," Boot said, a little too loudly. He caught Snape's eye and clamped his mouth shut.

"Five points from Ravenclaw," Snape said. Corner lifted his head slightly, probably intending to demand a reason, but when Boot shook his head he lowered his gaze back to his cauldron and stayed quiet.

Boot was quite discerning, for a Ravenclaw. Long association with a Slytherin would do that to you. He glanced across the room to make sure Turpin and Goldstein were still at their potions, not … elsewhere.

It wasn't enough of a distraction, however, and as he walked across to inform Finch-Fletchley that his potion was one step away from stagnation, he couldn't help wondering if Livingstone was really as recovered as he had seemed. The resilience of youth was one thing, and the efficacy of the potions that he had brewed for the occasion was another, but for Livingstone to have returned to nearly fully-functional in under two days was nothing short of extraordinary.

And that was even without the profound shock Snape was trying to forget about, when the boy had _spoken back_. In his _mind. _Like it was the most natural thing in the world for him to do.

Morris was about ten steps behind everyone else, again, despite Bones' distracted efforts to assist her. Snape talked her through what she had to do and how quickly she had to do it, trying his utmost to remain patient in the face of such a dull-witted student. Really, she should have repeated second year, or at least undertaken structured tutelage over the summer. Sprout was too soft on her students, and despite Flitwick, McGonagall and Snape all speaking to Dumbledore about the matter, the headmaster refused to overrule her.

With Dumbledore on his mind, Snape couldn't help but snap at Corner, who had started to whisper to Boot with a painful lack of subtlety. Dumbledore had had the nerve, when Snape had confronted him about Zabini, to upbraid Snape over the behaviour of 'his' Slytherins in Hagrid's classes. As soon blame Flitwick for Corner's big mouth, or McGonagall for Potter's idiotic defiance.

Snape had told him that those students were in Slytherin because they could recognise a problem when they saw one, and take appropriate steps to amend the situation without resorting to open conflict. They had not needed his direction, nor sought his approval, because they were perfectly capable of looking after themselves.

That hadn't gone down well. Dumbledore had tried to appeal to Snape's _empathy_, of all things, until Snape had laughed at him outright. Snape had then pointed out that Dumbledore was harming every single student taking Hagrid's class, simply to keep the man in a position he was utterly unqualified for in the first place, and such actions would no doubt soon attract the serious attention of the school board.

That had shut him up.

Snape watched as Morris made her way painstakingly slowly through the tasks he had given her. She worked better while observed, he knew, and this class was generally capable enough for him to devote some time to her from time to time. When he glanced across at Finch-Fletchley, he was surprised to see that the boy had salvaged his potion completely, and it was now the correct lemon shade, with an impressive green luminescence. He might make a tolerable brewer, if he would only relax and let his instincts lead him.

He hadn't moved the headmaster an inch as far as Zabini was concerned, of course. He wouldn't be able to, either. Zabini was not only a Slytherin, but an unabashed blood-purist, willing to voice his opinions where he had them. Dumbledore wouldn't openly condone an attack against such a student, but the man had a powerful blind eye, and wasn't afraid to use it.

"The water first," Snape said. Morris nodded, and set down her cup of daisy petals.

Snape wondered, not for the first time, why he had ever let Dumbledore talk him into taking this position. He could earn twice as much employed as a private tutor, and would have to brew himself considerably less headache-relieving potion.

He resisted rubbing his forearm, instead taking ten points from Ravenclaw when Corner started to whisper again. And five from Hufflepuff as well, when he saw that McDougall's knife was closer to the edge of the bench than was entirely safe. And five more from Ravenclaw for Goldstein's flame, which was bordering on excessive.

Really, by now they should know to be more careful.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Theo wouldn't leave him alone. Which was fair enough, Daniel supposed, since Snape had probably told him not to, but it was mightily inconvenient when all Daniel wanted to do was keep his appointment with Black. He didn't think Theo would really approve.

Once it had passed six o'clock, he gave up on trying to convince Theo to let him go for a walk on his own and settled down to writing a note for Black.

_Barker: like you'll probably see, I'm having some trouble getting anywhere alone. I've got this thing where I might black out for no reason, so they won't leave me alone in case I fall down the stairs, or get hexed or something. I found out some stuff though, from having a chat on the sly with the owner and a friend of theirs. The target's really old, like more than ten years old, and has been sick "since Egypt", whenever that was, so it stays up in the dorm most of the time, which sucks for us. They call it something different, too, and I know it's a stupid question but are you sure you've got the right one in mind?_

_Anyway, sorry to ruin the plan, but I wasn't expecting to be so closely watched, this might be the closest I can get to you until this sleep thing's fixed. I'll get it if you just want to call off our deal. Either way, take this note, and write on the book itself whether you want me to keep trying or not. I've found a relevant roommate I might be able to fool, but I won't do anything unless you tell me you still want me in._

Once that was done he declared he was going for a walk, collected his things and got up and left the room without really paying attention to who might be following him. Of course, once he was out and walking in the corridor he slowed down and walked with Theo rather than in front of him.

"This is dumb," he said. "It hasn't happened at all today, and it only happened like twice before. It's completely unfair."

"Well I don't like it either," Theo said unhappily. "If it means you're going to be always trying to avoid me."

"I can't help it," Daniel said. "How would you like being stalked by _your_ best friend."

"You wouldn't," Theo said.

"Not the point," Daniel said. "Anyway, I want to do some stuff alone so I'm going out onto the grounds and I guess you can watch me from a bit away."

Once they were well on their way out to the Whomping Willow, he tried again. Loudly. "How long are you going to be following me everywhere anyway?" he said, trying to look around to see if Black was around.

Theo shrugged. "Snape said it depends how you recover," he said impassively.

"I'm _recovered_," Daniel said in exasperation. "I'm fine."

"Tell Snape, not me," Theo said. "I'm not the one making the decisions."

"You wait here," Daniel told him. "I'll sit over there." He wandered about a hundred feet closer to the huge, swaying tree, and sat down on the cool, damp ground, his back to his friend. He took out his Arithmancy text, waved the note to Black around where Theo couldn't see it, then slipped it into the book, which he laid down blatantly on the ground in front of him.

He spent about a half an hour out there, practising stopping the finger transformation like Black had said. Then once he started getting seriously cold, he got back up, leaving the book and going back to Theo, who was sitting glumly on the ground himself, staring out across the grounds.

"Hey," Daniel said, guilty now that he had to face Theo again, and realising that he'd been a bit of a dick. "Thanks for that."

Theo got to his feet slowly. "Are you always going to be like this about it, or what," he said, face glum.

Daniel sighed. "Sorry," he said. "I'm just used to being able to get on my own. I'm not actually mad at _you_."

Theo just stuffed his hands in his pockets and started to trudge back up to the castle. Daniel felt the urge to take advantage of that and bolt, maybe meet with Black after all. After a moment he jogged to catch up to Theo, and tried to think of a way to cheer him up.

He thought of one, and it took him about ten minutes to work himself up to using it. He broke the silence reluctantly. "How's Granger?" he asked, barely resisting punching himself in the face.

Theo gave him a sidelong glance. He obviously knew exactly what Daniel was doing, because he gave him a small smile and walked a little taller. "She's upset at Weasley," he said gladly. "He's blaming her for his rat being sick, like a dumb old rat is more important than she is."

"So it's going well, then," Daniel said. "Good."

Theo's shoulders lifted in a silent sigh. "Not really," he said. "She's afraid of what her friends will think if she's my friend."

"A Gryffindor? Afraid?" Daniel said. "Never."

"Don't be a prat," Theo said. "Just because you don't value your friends doesn't mean nobody does."

"Maybe if you had _more _friends, you wouldn't be so obsessed with the ones you have," Daniel snapped back, hurt.

"Maybe if you weren't so mentally fragile, I could spend my time making friends instead of babysitting you every waking hour," Theo retorted, lip twitching slightly.

"Maybe if you weren't completely obsessed with a know-it-all butt-ugly Gryffindor I wouldn't be quite so disturbed," Daniel said, warming to the challenge.

"Maybe if you could get a girlfriend of your own the idea of me seeing someone wouldn't upset you so very much."

"Maybe if you didn't follow me around all the time, girls wouldn't mind coming to talk to me."

Theo missed a beat, and Daniel yipped his triumph. "A-_ha_!" he said. "Who's mentally fragile _now_?"

"You, I think," Theo said. "That's why I'm following you around, you see."

"Hmph," Daniel said, but he felt happier now that he'd gotten his message to Black and mostly squared things up with Theo. "Whatever."


	16. Holiday Over

Daniel had forgotten how awesome life at Hogwarts could be. He couldn't bring himself to sass his minders, even when he went to Runes and Draco had to take over from Theo. His classes were a breeze all day, and he even went to Defense kind of prepared, and managed to stay civil to Lupin for the whole hour.

It was kind of like things were supposed to have been all along, except slightly more awkward. Every moment he spent in Draco's company, which was pretty much all day, he was more convinced that Draco liked him. Which explained all Theo's snickers, and maybe some of the hostility he'd gotten from Crabbe and Goyle over the past week or so, before at least Goyle had warmed up to him a little.

He still wasn't sure if it was more hilarious, or terrifying. As long as Draco kept himself quiet about it, he supposed it shouldn't be too big a thing.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

After dinner, of course, Daniel "realised" his Arithmancy text was missing, so Theo had to go with him out into the grounds again to help him find it. He found himself less nervous than he thought he would be to find out whether Black had replied or not. It was going to be a lot of trouble to meet with him regularly, especially if Snape stayed all nervous nellie about it and had him chaperoned everywhere. He couldn't even go "study" with Dean and Seamus, not without giving away to Theo that it was all a sham.

The book was exactly where he'd left it, showing up clearly against the grass when he shone his Lumosout that way.

"Awesome," he said, and ran up to collect it. He put it straight into his bag without looking inside, not confident in being able to hide any reaction he might have to what was inside from Theo.

"Oh, did I tell you?" he asked on their way back to the castle. "I'm going to drop Arithmancy anyway, I'm no good at it."

Theo didn't seem surprised. "That's probably for the best."

"Will I cramp your style too much if I take Muggle Studies with you and Granger?" Daniel said.

Theo sighed. "I'm not putting moves on her, you goof," he said. "And she already knows I'm friends with you, and hasn't tried to hex me because of it yet."

"Muggle Studies will be easier for me, right?" Daniel said. "Being Muggle-raised, and everything."

"Yeah," Theo said. "But you'll be compared to Hermione in it, too."

"Pff," Daniel said dismissively. "I just need to pass, not get A-plus and fifty million gold stars."

He waved his wand in circles, sending gold sparks out the end and watching as they spun around each other before fading out. He grinned at the sight of it, even though it was incredibly simple magic. He'd only had his magic back for a couple of days, and now he couldn't imagine ever having lost it. It was so easy, and natural, and _obvious_. He still wasn't sure if he wanted to know exactly what Dumbledore had done to remove the barrier, but —

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Told you so."

That was Theo, and sounding mighty pleased with himself. Daniel raised himself onto his hands a little woozily, and was surprised to find himself back in the hospital wing, lying fully clothed except for his boots, on top of a neatly-made bed.

"Oh," he said. "I guess so. Pomfrey here? Or Snape?" He forced his thoughts in that safe direction, to avoid the other. "Basically do I need to stay, because if I'm crashing Muggle Studies tomorrow I should probably find out what I've missed, and I have to check some stuff for Potions too."

Theo was sitting by his bed, listening to him with his head slightly tilted. "Pomfrey's around," he said. "She says you have to stay."

"Gimme boots," Daniel said, holding out his hand and sitting upright.

Theo leaned down, scooped them up off the ground and chucked them onto the bed. "You need new ones," he commented.

"I do not," Daniel retorted, pulling them on. "I've got them just as I like them."

Theo looked at them doubtfully and shook his head. "Pomfrey won't let you out anyway," he said.

"Who said anything about _letting_?" Daniel asked scornfully as he finished tying his laces. "I have things to do." He leaped off the bed, proving to himself and to Theo that he wasn't still fainty or anything.

"Where's my bag?" he asked casually, pretty sure no one had any reason to look through it.

Theo leaned down again, slid it out from under the bed and handed it to him. "Good luck," he said sceptically.

Daniel slung the bag over his shoulder, satisfied it was the right weight, grabbed his wand from beside the bed and strode out from the curtains, leaving Theo to stand and follow him.

Pomfrey was in her office getting a book off the wall. Daniel resisted the compulsion to bolt for the door, and instead walked slowly across to it, chatting to Theo about the importance of well-worn boots.

"Mr. Livingstone!" Pomfrey snapped disapprovingly. "_What _do you think you're doing?"

"I have a meeting I missed with Professor Burbage," he said innocently. "I'm picking up Muggle Studies, and my first class is tomorrow and I'm meant to go see her."

"I'm sure that can wait," Pomfrey said fussily, waving them back to where she stood just outside her office. "You need time to recover, young man, not to go off gallivanting again so soon after regaining consciousness."

"He won't gallivant," Theo put in quietly. "I know what to do if he passes out again, like Professor Dumbledore explained. Like I just did."

That earned him an almighty glare from Pomfrey. "The headmaster is not here," she said briskly. "Nor is Professor Snape, so your health falls under my purview."

"I'm fine, though," Daniel said. "You can't keep me here when I'm not sick." _And I don't know what purview means anyway._

"I am not satisfied, Mr. Livingstone, that you are 'not sick'," she said, starting to walk back towards the bed.

"Well I don't have any _symptoms_," Daniel said, standing with his arms crossed. "That's a pretty big clue."

"Professor Dumbledore said as long as there were no immediate complications, he wasn't in any danger," Theo said, more loudly that time. "I have work to do myself, but Professor Snape said I wasn't to leave his side unless another housemate was with him."

She was teetering between outrage and acceptance, Daniel knew. But Theo was the master manipulator, not him, so he just jiggled impatiently, not a difficult task when he was so very _ready _to check his Arithmancy book.

Theo looked at her earnestly. "Did you tell Professor Snape he was in here, ma'am? We could go down to him now, since he knows all about what Professor Dumbledore did."

_No! _Daniel thought. That was the last thing he wanted to do, go see _Snape._

Pomfrey was nodding, though, looking relieved at the get-out-of-jail-free, so he forced his face into polite agreement, and inched towards the door. "I'll take him down now," Theo said, and opened the door for Daniel to go through.

They made it out safely, and as soon as the door closed behind them, Daniel turned on Theo. "We're not going to see Snape," he said bluntly.

"Of course not," Theo said, strolling down the corridor. "I never said we would."

"Good," Daniel said, letting his breath out in relief and setting out after him.

"You're going to read through my Muggle Studies research and tell me if I've stuffed anything up," Theo informed him. "And you can tell Draco about your change in classes, and I'll watch."

Oh. Daniel hadn't even thought about how Draco might react. He'd probably either be really mad, or just forget he'd ever liked him at all.

It was actually kind of weird that he did in the first place, since Daniel might even be Muggleborn himself. But then, Draco had always said if he was in Slytherin, he _couldn't _be a Mudblood. Daniel hoped like hell that hadn't been his wishful thinking on their _very first day._

"Blech," he said.

"It'll be funny," Theo said, grinning madly.

"For you, maybe," Daniel said. "He's the one watching me around Runes, he might not bother now."

"_That's _hardly likely," Theo said. "Oh, and you're feeling vulnerable now, are you? Whatever happened to 'I'm fine, leave me alone!'?"

"I'll give you _vulnerable_," Daniel muttered. "That's what you'll be when I tell Granger all those Mudblood jokes you taught us back in first year."

Theo flinched, but then shook his head. "You know what that was about," he said. "And stop harping on about Granger, I know you're not going to do any of that stuff."

"Ha," Daniel said. "Shows what you know."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"I'm dropping Arithmancy and taking Muggle Studies instead," Daniel announced as soon as Draco was within earshot.

Draco looked up curiously from his Charms work. "You were pretty excited for Arithmancy," he said mildly.

Theo slumped in disappointment and dropped into one of the empty seats around the table. "What, so it's okay for _him_?" he groused, fishing around in his bag.

"It's not like he's interested in the subject," Draco said. "He just wants to pick something easier."

"Oh, I don't think Theo's interested in the _subject_," Daniel leered, then sprang back out of reach as Theo whirled and glared at him.

"Oh?" Draco said, looking at Theo with some interest.

When Theo kept his mouth shut, Daniel knew he had him. "I'm starting to think it's Burbage herself," he said, backing further away as he spoke. "He's even sitting next to _Granger_, trying to suck up."

"You are _dead_," Theo said emphatically.

"Whatever you threaten, I _know_ you would never do any of it," Daniel told him flippantly. Then he noticed Draco's appreciative grin, and decided to tone it down a little. "Want me to check over your work for you?" he offered. "I owe you for just now, anyway."

Theo looked almost as confused as Draco at his change of tone. Crabbe and Goyle hadn't even looked up through the whole conversation.

"No?" Daniel said after giving Theo only an instant to reply. "Okay, I'll just go down and sort out my stuff then." He took the stairs down three at a time, putting his arms out to stop himself from crashing full tilt into the wall where it split into the girls' and boys' dorms. He turned right, jumped down the remaining five stairs all at once, leapt onto his bed and closed the curtains around him, waving his wand to activate the wards.

He'd _thought_ the book had been a bit heavier than usual when he'd picked it up, but since he'd chucked it straight into his bag and done his best to pretend it wasn't important, he hadn't been sure. Now he was, though, and it didn't take long for him to realise why.

He opened the book, something small and flat fell out of it, and he saw that about a hundred pages had been torn out, leaving a hole for whatever it was that had just fallen out.

Which was a mirror, absolutely covered in grime. He cast _scourgify _at it, but when it was clean it just looked like a regular mirror.

He looked funny with short hair. It was going to be a while before he got used to seeing himself that way, but he had to give Draco credit. The cut suited him pretty well, it made his face look a bit squarer, and he had cheekbones now, which was odd.

He turned it over to look at the back, but it was just some kind of dull metal, which didn't reflect anything at all. He put it down carefully on his bed, and looked at his book again. The inside front cover was blank, and so was the back one. Daniel sighed, lay down and started to flick through it, glad he hadn't bought a copy someone had already scribbled in.

It was all the way on page three hundred and forty-eight. Black had written on a page that ended a chapter, giving him about half the page for his own message. His writing was terrible. Daniel supposed he was probably pretty out of practice.

_So. You seem pretty dedicated to this, which surprises me. I guess you really want to learn that thing, huh? I won't write much here, because I've given you a much better way to get in touch with me. I've got one like it of my own, and all you need to do is say my name in front of it, and they'll be linked. You can work out the rest. Sorry about the book, but you're probably better off eating your own eyeballs than reading that tripe. I don't remember our textbook being that bad. Anyway, use the thing I sent you._

Daniel picked the mirror up carefully. If it really did what Black claimed, it was a hell of a thing to leave in a book, lying around where anyone might get at it.

"Sirius Black," he said softly, and his face vanished immediately.

It was replaced with a pale kind of darkness, and when he looked carefully he could make out trees, and leaf-litter down the bottom. Then the image tilted and swirled, and he looked away instinctively.

"Hey," a voice came from the mirror, so he looked back.

It was deep in shadow, but Daniel could mostly make out the man's beard, and the shape of his unkempt hair. "Black?" he said, just to be sure.

"Yeah," Black said. "Good, huh?"

"Sure," Daniel said.

"You in private?"

"Yeah, I've switched the curtains to silent," Daniel said. "I'll be careful though anyway. Slytherin, you know." He could have kicked himself, then. Last thing Black needed after trusting this mirror to him was to hear that he was keeping it in a Slytherin dormitory. "Were any of the things I found out useful?"

It was a pain that he couldn't see Black's expression properly. He was tempted to lower the light where he was too, but that was really just petty.

"It's interesting that he's ill," Black said. "Do you have any more information about that?"

Daniel shook his head. "Sounded like ageing to me," he said. "I haven't seen it, obviously, but P - uh, his friend seems to think it's just getting old, but the owner says it's stress over the cat it lives near."

"Since Egypt," Black said, to confirm.

"Yeah," Daniel said. "That's what he said."

"Hm," Black said.

"I'm going to have to get over this blacking out thing before I can really _do _anything," Daniel said, needing to make sure Black understood the situation. "I've got a few things I can do to set me up for then, but like I say, I can't get on my own these days."

"Sorry you're sick," Black said insincerely. "But I understand. You seem to be doing all you can."

"Yeah," Daniel said. "There's kind of a loner living with them, like they pair up in best friends and he's left out. He's pretty dumb, I think if I cosy up to him I might be able to trick something out of him, like maybe a password or something. I could use your help with some spells to stay out of sight, but I won't be needing that yet."

"How are your transformations going?" Black asked. Nobody could deny that Gryffindors stuck to their word, though Daniel supposed Black was a special case. An honorary Slytherin, as it were, with the whole betraying his best friend to the Dark Lord and everything. Daniel wouldn't forget that. If he did, he would be in serious trouble.

"Good," he answered. "I'm getting the hang of stopping it wandlessly, but it still takes me a little while. Getting heaps better, though."

"Got a quill and parchment handy?" Black said. "I've got the list I said I'd write for you. I'll read it out."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The rest of the week went pretty well for Daniel. He turned up to Muggle Studies with Theo without warning, and managed to get Burbage to make all the official arrangement for him to change classes. The class itself was good, they mostly just sat around and talked about the readings, which were about transportation this week. Granger was all about road rules and public transport systems, leaving it to Daniel to explain to the wizardborn all about drag races and fare evasion and helicopters and stuff. If he'd never joined this class, they sure would have gotten a deadly boring picture of how Muggles lived. He bet Granger brushed her teeth three times a day and went to bed at nine. Maybe earlier.

It was a relief not to be going to Arithmancy, even if he had to put up with Draco tailing him for Snape while Theo was away. He spent the time doing token preparation for Herbology, but mostly practising quashing his finger transformation. He was almost there, and once he had that under control he could get started on the other stuff Black had told him about.

It was a great list. Not only did it have what he'd have to learn and how long it would probably take, it also had plenty of warnings what _not _to do, most of them things Daniel had considered trying when trying to plan it himself.

It was too good a list, really. What did he need Black for now anyway? For a servant of the Dark Lord, Black really didn't seem too bright.

It had been disappointing when Snape hadn't demanded inter-house pairs in Potions that afternoon. Making friends with Longbottom was a good idea, but it was hard to find a way to make a fairly innocent first move. They didn't even share any electives, where people tended to care less about what house a person was in. He was starting to think he'd have to go through Dean and Seamus to get information to help him get close to Longbottom. It might be easier just to do that disillusion thing Snape had done on the Pensieve on himself, and just sneak in and hope to hell he didn't get caught.

But he _couldn't _do that, because of his _stalkers._

He sighed, and tried to pay a little more attention to the effect of charmed soil on flowering plants. Herbology was such a bore.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

By the end of the week he could immediately sense and squelch any unwanted energy in his fingers, and had started to practise the hyper-aware meditation Black had described as the next step. He'd thought it would come easy to him, since Rick had taught him years ago about the meditation thing to keep calm, pulling yourself back into an old memory, and he was good at that.

This was something entirely different, though. Whenever he tried to guide his breathing into any kind of pattern, he automatically fell back home, feeling the cool air on his face and the pulsing of the bass through the floor. What he was meant to be doing was the exact opposite, of course. Black had said he needed the same level of control over every part of his body as he'd developed on the one finger before he should even start trying to do anything bigger.

He'd talked Theo into reading the Muggle Studies text aloud for them both too, saying that way he could correct things or provide more information as Theo learned the original material. He even used the word synthesis, which he'd learned just that week in Potions.

Theo had mostly forgiven him for his crack about Muggle Studies, once Daniel had explained that it was a cunning manoeuvre to make sure nobody in Slytherin ever guessed Theo was sweet on Draco's second-or-third-worst enemy. It hadn't even taken him long to come up with that story, and Theo had fallen for it like an utter sap. Theo had spent some time jibing him about being mentally fragile, but since whenever he mentioned it Daniel's thoughts headed to the weak part of his mind, he had to stop eventually. Daniel only fainted a couple of times, but Theo seemed to take it more seriously than Daniel thought was necessary. It wasn't like it lasted more than a few minutes anyway.

"Want to come to the Muggle Studies group tomorrow?" Theo asked him as they sat in the common room after dinner on Friday, putting off starting their first big History assignment for the year. "It's pretty much the whole class. Just Seamus doesn't come."

Daniel looked at him askance. "Started a little club, have you?" he said. "Trying to impress someone?"

Theo rolled his eyes. "McMillan started it," he said. "And we don't just do Muggle Studies, it's actually a really useful study group. Would do you some good, I think."

Daniel got the feeling that if he didn't go, Theo would leave him to spend that time with Draco. "I might swing by," he said. "Could I trade off some Muggle knowledge for a History essay, do you think?"

Theo shook his head. "It's not _Slytherin_," he said. "Though Bones is pretty good with History, if you're nice to her she might help you."

"I don't want her help, I want her work," Daniel said. "This club doesn't seem that helpful to _me_."

Theo shrugged. "Well I'm going, and it usually lasts most of Saturday, so Draco, do you think you could - "

"I _said_ I'd come," Daniel said quickly, not looking at Draco. "I honestly don't know how you were getting on in Muggle Studies without me."

The room hushed a little then, and when Daniel turned to see what was going on he saw everyone looking toward the entrance.

Blaise was there, hand in hand with Daphne. His head was lifted defiantly and he looked around, meeting everyone's eyes firmly. It didn't take long for people to go back to what they had been doing. Blaise went down to the dorm then with his bag, and Daphne came to sit with them, looking relieved.

"How is he?" Draco asked, setting down his quill.

"He'll be back in a moment," Daphne said, clasping her hands together on top of the table. "Don't bother being considerate or anything, he's taking offence to most things at the moment. He's promised me not to attack anyone though, so don't worry about that."

Then Blaise was back, sitting in between Crabbe and Theo and looking at them all thoughtfully.

"Welcome back," Theo said.

"Yeah," Daniel managed.

Blaise shot him a sour look, but nodded to Theo graciously. "It's good to be back," he said. "You all look like you missed me _dreadfully_."

Draco gave him a half-smile. "You look like you missed us as well," he said. "You're fully recovered, I presume?"

They stared at each other a moment in silent calculation, then Blaise nodded. "I have to take some potions weekly, but mostly as a precaution," he said.

"What did it feel like?" Crabbe asked, earning him a few glares, the harshest one from Daphne, sitting across from him.

Blaise didn't answer.

"You _are _recovered, then," Draco said in equal parts satisfaction and disappointment. "Congratulations."

It was pretty obvious that they'd been happier without Blaise, Daniel realised. None of the things he could think of to say were quite right with him listening in, especially if he was spoiling for a fight.

Blaise solved the problem of the awkward silence by turning to Daniel and smiling dangerously. "I hear you've been ill yourself," he said. "Fainting fits, is it?"

"That's right," Daniel said evenly. "A small price to pay for the bump up I got in magical power, though."

"Oh?" Blaise said, raising his eyebrows and turning slightly to glance at Daphne. "How so?"

"I was fighting through a block I had in my mind," Daniel told him with relish. "So all the time I was having trouble casting, my strength was building, and now the block's gone and I can take advantage of it. Nearly blinded myself with my first Lumos_._"

Blaise looked less than pleased with _that. _"Still," he said calmly. "Fainting does tend to leave one mightily exposed."

Daniel shrugged. "My friends look out for me," he said, pointedly looking at both Draco and Theo as he said it.

Blaise's eyes narrowed at Draco's small nod. "I see," he said. "I'm glad you're so well-protected, then."

"Still, there's still at least one person in this school who's attacked _you_ and got away with it," Daniel added. "If even you couldn't defend yourself, it seems like we're all pretty exposed."

There _was _a brief spark of fear in Blaise's wide brown eyes then. "They are still not found, then," he said disapprovingly. "I thought Dumbledore had more power in this school than _that_."

"Dumbledore couldn't care less," Draco said. "He's feeding the board some rot about Black, and Morgan, and how he's _delegated_ the matter to Snape."

"So what's Snape been doing about it?" Blaise pressed.

"He's been flat out with this one," Theo said, jerking his head at Daniel. "And dealing with Morgan, of course."

"He asked the portraits yesterday," Draco said. "But I don't think they were any help. Now Daniel's sorted out he might get a little further."

Blaise's eyes were cold and hard when he turned to glower at Daniel. "Well I'm so glad you can cast your little spells again," he said. "Now maybe they can start looking for a _killer._"

"Blaise," Daphne said softly.

_You're not actually dead, you know. _Daniel bit back the words and nodded. "I certainly hope so," he said. "It's a bit hard on Daphne, having to look out for you all the time."

Daphne slapped the table with the palm of her hand. "I don't _have _to, you idiot," she said. "I want to, because I _love _him. He'd do the same for me without blinking an eye, and you know it."

Blaise couldn't help smiling at that, and it made Daniel _furious. _"Well he's got a nerve blaming _me_ for what Snape does and doesn't do," he said. "I _told _Snape I could wait, but he insisted. Go tell _him_ off, not me_._"

"No need to get in a huff," Blaise said, composed again. "Though I suppose I can understand you getting a little defensive."

"Oh, sod off," Daniel said. "No one wanted you back anyway."

"Is that so?" Blaise murmured, reaching idly across to take Theo's history notes. "You don't mind, do you?" he said absently. Then he looked down at them and dropped them with a start, jumping back out of his seat.

Daniel chuckled, realising his problem. "I don't think she _bled _on it," he said.

Blaise had his wand out in an instant. Before anyone could move to stop him, he'd cast Incendioon the whole stack, leaving them all staring at a small pile of ashes settling themselves onto the table.

"I will not have _any _of that in here," Blaise proclaimed, eyes snapping.

"You pig," Theo said, standing and staring outraged at what was left of his notes. "Those were _mine._"

Blaise lifted his chin, much like Draco did when he knew he was in for it. "I will not have it," he repeated.

Walter Northbrook, the 6th year prefect, had come up to their table then, and was looking around at them with a disapproving frown. "What's going on here, Zabini?" he demanded.

Blaise's lip twitched. "Theo had offensive material on the table," he said coolly.

"It was my notes for History," Theo protested. "You can't just go around burning my stuff, I don't care _how_ many times you've been cursed."

"Zabini?" Northbrook pressed. "I saw what you did, don't try denying anything."

"Written by a Mudblood," Blaise said, looking genuinely ill as he said it.

Northbrook's pale hazel eyes flickered from Blaise to Theo and back again, then briefly to Daniel. "Unpleasant as that undoubtedly must have been," he said, "You know better than to destroy a housemate's possessions. That's twenty points, and if anything like this happens again I'll have to pass it on to Snape. Nott, if you _must_ use that kind of thing, try to show a little class and don't parade it around the common room in future."

He looked at them until they both nodded, Blaise looking victorious and Theo livid. Then he went back to sit with the other sixth years, shaking his head.

Theo grabbed his stuff together and stuffed it into his bag, scattering the ashes all across the table in the process. "I'm going to the library," he announced, not looking at Blaise. "Coming, Daniel?"

Now that was a seriously good idea. Daniel gathered his own things and followed Theo out, already thinking nostalgically about life at Hogwarts without Blaise Zabini.


	17. Birthday Boy

Over the next couple of weeks, Daniel started to wonder how it was he had ever managed to get along with Blaise. Surely Blaise hadn't been quite so fond of the word Mudblood in the past, or so poisonous towards the Muggleborn students he had classes with. By October, the only people who would voluntarily speak to him were his fellow Slytherins. Daniel and Theo were not included in that group. They didn't spend any free time in the common room or dorm unless they knew he had a class or they'd made arrangements to meet other people.

Nothing was heard about Blaise's first attacker, and Snape seemed to be the only teacher even making an effort to do anything about it. He had meetings with Blaise every few days, which seemed to leave Blaise with a couple of hours of goodwill afterwards. If Daniel wasn't still being followed himself, he would have considered investigating that. As it was, every time he saw Snape he asked if he was free yet, and even though he hadn't fainted for days and days and days, Snape told him no.

The meditation was improving, but painfully slowly. He spoke to Black a couple of times a week, but they didn't have much to discuss, and Daniel could tell that the man was getting impatient. Sometimes he didn't answer the mirror, but then the next time Daniel spoke to him he'd never offer any kind of explanation. Daniel was trying to get in with Longbottom, but the Gryffindor was hopelessly suspicious. With good reason, Daniel could admit, but it was frustrating anyway, to want to hold up his side of his bargain with Black when it was just impossible to do.

Trying to befriend Gryffindors wasn't the only new thing Daniel was doing. Since Theo had to follow him around all the time, and because Daniel had been an ass about it to begin with, he found himself not only going to the Muggle Studies group on Saturdays, but also going to all the Quidditch practices that had started at the end of September, sitting way up in the stands practising his meditation while Theo watched the fliers intently from beside him. Daniel found Quidditch confusing and deadly boring at the same time, and pointlessly dangerous, but Theo had always loved watching it, intrigued by the strategy and the set plays. Sometimes Daniel could swear that watching training drills was actually hypnotising for him. He seemed to like watching practice far more than watching the matches.

Daniel sometimes worried that maybe Draco thought he'd started coming to practice to watch _him_. It was hard to tell though, because for Draco, Quidditch was always just a way to show off, and Daniel couldn't tell if he was showing off more than his outrageous usual. At least there were other people who came to watch. Crabbe and Goyle and Pansy obviously, since their lives were all about Draco. Plenty of other people came from time to time, mostly friends of the players, but the only others who came every single practice were Melissa Vaisey and Lauren Pucey, a couple of sixth years who tried out every year even though the whole world knew Flint would never let any _girls_ on the team while _he _was captain. Lauren's brother Adrian had been on the team the last couple of years, but apparently wasn't this year. They never sat with Daniel and Theo, but after every practice while the other spectators waited to walk back with the team they all walked back together, talking Quidditch with the same knowledge and enthusiasm as football tragics back in the Muggle world. The rhythm of the conversations always made Daniel a little homesick for his football-mad friends back home. If it could still be called homesickness, when he wouldn't be going back.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

On the morning of the eleventh Daniel got up early to add his carefully-wrapped present to the small pile at the end of Theo's bed. He was glad he'd thought to buy presents over the summer using his parents' money, considering how little cash he had left after he'd used what he had to buy his school equipment for the year.

He also took the time to take a peek at the presents already there. There were the usual couple of family presents, and one from each of the other Slytherin third years. The one from Blaise was _tiny_, about the size of a single Gobstone, and looked ridiculous next to Draco's, which was almost the size of Daniel himself, a big box wrapped in pale blue shimmering paper. Daniel's, in its simple Muggle wrapping paper, looked drab against all the iridescent, moving patterns on the other presents, but he was used to that. It made it stand out even more than the fireworks exploding on the flat one from Theo's brother.

He had to remind himself that these weren't _his _presents, so he really shouldn't be so excited about looking through them. Just as he stood up to go back to his bed, Theo's curtains shifted aside and his friend's tousled blond was poking out and staring at him.

"Happy birthday," Daniel said, stepping back. "This seems to be all in order."

Theo slid quietly off his bed and came to sit among his presents, and Daniel sat beside him. "Cheers," Theo said, and reached for the present from his parents, which was perfectly round and about head-sized. He looked at it anxiously for a moment, then reached out to unwrap it, but he couldn't seem to get any purchase on the glittering green paper. "Oh for fuck's sake," he said after a moment. He got up, went back up to his bed and came back with his wand in hand.

"I guess they're afraid I'll actually turn _into _a Muggle," he said resentfully as he sat down and tapped his wand to the present. It unwrapped itself, and the paper folded itself neatly by Theo's foot.

Daniel caught a glimpse of something like a crystal ball full of blue lightning before Theo grabbed it up and sat it on his bed behind the curtains.

"What - " Daniel said, but stopped at the look on Theo's face. He had actually never seen his friend that angry before, even when Blaise had burnt up his stuff. So he sat there, looking idly over the rest of the presents while Theo sat and fumed.

Crabbe's curtains opened then, and he gave Theo a rare smiled and wished him a happy birthday. He didn't come down though, just lay on his belly in his pale grey pyjamas and watched.

His appearance seemed to settle Theo, who reached for the present from his brother Edward, who would be starting at Hogwarts next year. As he uncovered a misshapen kind of purple hand towel thing, a small smile found its way onto his face.

"What's that?" Daniel asked, earning him a derisive snort from Crabbe up on his bed.

"It's a dampener," Theo said, rubbing the thick, soft material thoughtfully. "Looks like he made it himself, too."

"From Ed?" Crabbe said.

"Yeah," Theo said.

"That's a bit useless," Crabbe commented. "Probably won't even put out a candle."

Theo's smile widened a little, and he looked up at Crabbe. "It's the thought that counts," he said serenely. "I know exactly what it means, and I love it."

Daniel wanted to ask about the lightning ball, but was distracted by another set of curtains opening, and Draco coming to sit with them, in a dishevelled state he was only ever found in on birthday mornings. It seemed to be a matter of principle for him not to be dignified while there were presents to be unwrapped.

"Are you up to mine yet?" he asked, even though it was obvious his was still wrapped and dominating the small pile. Then he rubbed his eyes and ran a hand through his frazzled hair. "Happy birthday, I mean." He gave Theo a wide smile, which he then turned on Daniel for no reason at all.

"I'm afraid yours will eat me," Theo said, even though he was obviously looking forward to it. Draco was famous for his generosity with gifts, and it wasn't uncommon for his present to be worth more than all a person's other presents put together.

"Try that," Daniel said, pointing to the tiny one from Blaise. "That's more likely to be actually dangerous."

Theo's jaw tensed and he reached out to grab the tiny package. After a moment's pause he tapped his wand to unwrap it, leaving them all staring at the solitary Gobstone lying on the floor.

"Wow," Daniel said. "A single horrible spitting marble for you! You must be thrilled."

Theo shrugged and chucked the Gobstone up onto his bed as well.

"Mine," Daniel said, having waited quite long enough. "Next to that, it'll look like the best present ever. No way you're opening mine after _Draco's_."

Theo grinned. "Fair enough," he said.

He unwrapped the small plastic box carefully, then opened it and looked at Daniel. "What is it?" he asked.

"Harmonica," Daniel said. "See the holes along the side? You blow air in, or suck it out, and it makes music."

Theo lifted the small metal object carefully, looking over it carefully, running his fingers over the engraving of the maker's logo.

"Go on," Draco demanded. "Make music."

Theo gave Daniel a wary glance. "It doesn't blow up, right?"

Daniel laughed. "I bought it in Swansea," he said. "If it blows up, it's because someone's made a serious mistake in construction, not because I'm trying to kill you. Put your mouth over as many holes as you can reach and breathe in then out as hard as you can. It's cool."

Theo did as Daniel told him, and another set of curtains were flung back hurriedly as the shrill noise filled their room. Once Goyle saw that the four of them were all laughing, the look of panic left his face and he scowled grumpily. "Happy birthday," he said halfheartedly, then lay back in his bed and closed his eyes as Theo experimented a little more.

"Good present," Theo said, putting the harmonica carefully on the blanket from his brother.

"Happy birthday," Daniel told him.

"Mine," Draco said, even bouncing a little where he sat.

"No way," Theo said. "Yours has to be last."

"Hurry up then," Draco said. "I don't have all day."

So Theo quickly opened the rest of his presents, glancing up at Draco's monster of a gift too many times for him to bother pretending to act casual about it. He got an Orator quill from Crabbe, and grinned at him appreciatively before he'd even tried it out. Pansy had given him a box of sweets, of course, and Goyle a strange sort of net thing that Daniel didn't recognise. Daphne's present was the rest of the Gobstones set, which had Theo sighing and glancing across at Blaise's curtains.

Then Draco's was the only one left, and they all got up to stand around it, even Crabbe and Goyle.

"You have to let me use it sometimes," Draco said imperiously.

Theo tapped his wand against the paper, which vanished outright at the touch of his wand.

Draco looked around triumphantly at everyone's dumbfounded expressions. "It's a prototype," he said. "Just a basic model. The real thing won't be available for months at least."

Sitting on their dormitory floor was a scaled-down model of a Quidditch pitch, complete with fourteen players hovering on their brooms in starting positions.

"There's a booklet of incantations," Draco said. "It can remember about two hundred sets of player statistics, and it already has all the basic plays and setups. We did some experiments on it before I decided to give it to you, so it also adjusts to biased referees and has a rather more extensive foul system than the official product is likely to."

Theo was speechless. Daniel glanced across at Blaise's bed, glad to see the curtains were still closed. He couldn't think of a more obvious way for Draco to announce what side _he _was on in their conflict. It was a crazy good present.

"I talked to Flint," Draco continued. "He won't accept advice from anyone outside the team on strategy, of course, you know what he's like, but if you get any bright ideas, let me know and I can get it said."

Theo looked at him then, a strange, plaintive kind of a look. "Thanks," he said. "This is incredible."

Draco preened. "Happy birthday," he said, and went to get dressed. Crabbe and Goyle wandered away too. Daniel was getting pretty damn curious about the lightning ball present, but it was Theo's birthday, so he forced himself to keep quiet and go get changed.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Snape's present to Theo was far better than Draco's as far as Daniel was concerned. The two of them were eating lunch in the Great Hall while they were supposed to be in History. Daniel was doing his best to charm the candles into staying lit and Theo was trying to blow them out without magic when their head of house came up behind them and cleared his throat.

"Happy birthday, Mr. Nott," he said stiffly.

"Get him a present?" Daniel said, watching Theo carefully in case he tried to blow the candles out on the sly.

"Your freedom, Mr. Nott," Snape said.

Daniel whirled around to look at him, and heard Theo blowing out the candles behind him. "Really?" he said. "He can stop following me around now?"

"Yes," Snape said, still looking at Theo.

"Good present," Daniel said.

"Thank you, sir," Theo said.

Snape nodded and strode away out of the hall.

"Thank God," Daniel said, leaning back in his chair. "Now you can watch your Quidditch in peace."

Theo frowned. "I don't see how it's safe now just because it hasn't happened in a while," he said. "Aren't you just avoi - "

Daniel hushed him as Blaise came to the table. Last thing he needed was him learning anything about things that made Daniel black out. "What do you want to do this afternoon?" he asked loudly.

"Go to class?" Theo suggested mildly.

"No!" Daniel protested. "It's your birthday, you idiot. Do something fun. Binns won't do anything, and nor will Lupin."

"Uh oh," Theo said, starting to get up. "Seamus."

"He doesn't bite - " Daniel said, then turned and saw the look on the Gryffindor's face. "He might just breathe fire though," he said, standing up as well.

"Zabini!" Seamus said, wand held tightly at his side.

Blaise stopped just before sitting down, and seemed to be holding himself back from turning around. It occurred to Daniel then to wonder what the two of _them _were doing out of class.

"You take it back, you Slytherin bastard," Seamus said, hand trembling as he raised his wand.

Blaise sat down, back painfully straight.

"Back off, Seamus," Daniel said. "Don't be stupid."

"Stay out of it," Seamus said, not looking at him. "Nothing to do with you. Turn _around_, you son of a bitch!"

Daniel's idea of paradise was watching as Seamus and every other Gryffindor took pot shots at Blaise while his back was turned. In fact, he'd probably invite the whole school, and maybe some Muggles with BB guns.

He shifted to stand in between Seamus and Blaise as Theo drew his own wand.

"Get out of the _way_, Daniel. You didn't hear what he _said_," Seamus snarled. "He's been out of line for weeks, and everyone knows it. You can't defend him."

"I'm not defending anything he said," Daniel told him. "But you're not going to attack him, not like this. His _back is turned._" He was pretty sure that was the way to appeal to a Gryffindor, though anyone with any sense would recognise it as incentive.

"Coward's way out," Seamus said, face so red he was barely recognisable. "I know you hate him, just move." He waved his wand wildly, but when he pointed it at them again it was steady.

The hall had gone quiet a few moments ago, but no one seemed willing to step in and do anything. Snape didn't know to come back, Daniel realised, and no doubt he was the only teacher who'd be properly angry if Blaise did get attacked. He was surprised at the other Slytherins though. The house was meant to defend its own, and even the prefects were just leaving it to him and Theo.

"I hate him, sure," Daniel agreed easily. "But you're the one with _your_ wand on _my_ housemate."

Seamus snarled. "Like Slytherins care about _that_," he said. "You're all out for yourselves, I know that. I don't know what you think you're playing at, on his side, you Muggleborn yourself."

Dean was there then, his hand on Seamus's shoulder.

"You have a lot to learn about Slytherin," Daniel said, only now starting to get angry. "Now piss off back to class or wherever, and leave us be."

Seamus wouldn't have budged if Dean hadn't been pulling him back, muttering in his ear and basically dragging him away from the confrontation. Once he was gone and Daniel had turned back to the table, where everyone seemed to be pretending not to have noticed anything, Blaise half-turned in his seat and glanced at Theo, a look of understanding if not any kind of warmth.

It was the last straw. It hadn't been _Theo _who had faced down Seamus to save Blaise's stupid skin. Daniel left the hall, furious at Seamus and Blaise and Slytherin and himself.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Snape found it very, very difficult to stomach.

The whole school was in love with _Remus Lupin_: coward, werewolf, passive-aggressive, weak, hateful _wretch_. Snape wasn't sure what he found more offensive: that the Defence Against the Dark Arts course had been reduced to a slightly gothic version of Care of Magical Creatures, or the way Lupin just blandly continued to exist, like nothing could touch him, like he wasn't hiding a deadly, shameful secret about himself from hundreds of vulnerable students, like he didn't depend on Snape himself for the blasted Wolfsbane, like his old best friend Black hadn't betrayed Potter and Lily, impossibly escaped Azkaban, and wasn't right now dead set on destroying their spawn, whom Snape had, in a fit of insanity, sworn to protect.

He suspected the latter might bother him somewhat more.

He was finding himself distracted by the thought of the man and associated trauma at odd times. Over the last two years he had almost managed to inure himself to the sight of Lily's eyes peering out from Potter's face, but adding Remus Lupin to the mix had undone all his good work.

Last year, the traditional appeal from Vaisey and Pucey for him to talk some sense into Flint about Quidditch selection wouldn't have transported him back twenty years to his own efforts to be at least allowed to try out for his team. As a half-blood, of course he was turned back with disdain. That didn't really bother him so much, the problem had been when word somehow found its way to Black, who had publicly taunted him for five weeks straight about his _trying to be as cool as James_ and his _pathetic attempts to control his broomstick _and, of course, his over-large nose and poor personal hygiene.

Nor would his regular meetings with Zabini about self-control have brought back quite so freshly his own meetings with his head of house, who had encouraged him, both wisely and fruitlessly, to look beyond petty revenge and seek victory in the long run. Zabini was far more rational than he had been at that age, absorbing Snape's counsel and refraining from outright attacking his enemies. With magic, at least. Curtailing that boy's vicious tongue altogether was more than Snape could ever hope to achieve.

It was all Black's fault for distracting him from his house by trying to kill Potter's boy and, by extension, Potter's fault as well for thinking Black trustworthy in the first place. Lupin's too, of course, taking up his time by needing the blasted Wolfsbane, and Snape was sure that if he put some effort into it, he could find a way to blame the situation on Pettigrew as well. For being killed by Black instead of capturing him, perhaps. Since half of the Marauders were dead and one in hiding, Snape felt justified in concentrating his hatred and directing it at the werewolf. All for one and one for all was very Gryffindor, after all. It would be wrong not to respect such a worthy sentiment.

McGonagall had had the nerve to ask him yesterday if he didn't think he was being a little more _vengeful_ than was appropriate. With Lupin himself in the room, ready to run to Dumbledore with anything Snape might say, he could hardly snap back at her that he didn't think having an unreliable infectious beast on staff was _appropriate_, so he had simply stood and announced he had a potion to brew, one essential for the protection of _all _the students in the school. That was apparently dumbed down enough that even the Gryffindors in the room understood his meaning. Lupin stiffened slightly in his chair, and McGonagall gave him that _look_ which had, admittedly, had him quaking in his boots when he was eleven.

He had put his childhood well and truly behind him, however, so he nodded amicably to her and left the room before he was provoked into anything rash.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel loved parties at Hogwarts. It was a shame that Theo didn't, because Daniel was really in the mood for a bit of a shindig. It was really a bit rich of Theo to complain about not having many friends when every chance he got to talk to other people and be the centre of attention for a while, he wasted the opportunity by getting all grouchy and antisocial.

On the evening of his fourteenth birthday, when any normal person would be gearing up to raise the roof, Theodore Nott dumped his magnificent present from Draco out in the common room, waited until everyone was exclaiming over it and slunk into the dormitory alone. Daniel watched him go, trying to work out whether he actually wanted to be alone, or just wasn't in the mood for a crowd. Draco was busy showing off the model, so no one was really paying attention to Daniel himself.

He figured Theo could use some time alone, ducked out of the common room out into the corridor and then into the nearest boys' toilet. He cast _Muffliato_ at the door, leaned on the wall by the basin and pulled out Black's mirror.

"Sirius Black," he said softly, staying ready to shove the mirror into his bag in case anyone opened the door.

The face in the mirror stayed his own. Daniel sighed. For all his deadly intent when Daniel had first met him, Black just didn't seem all that interested any more. Which was a shame, because now Daniel was full to the brim with magic and finally off the leash, he was starting to itch for a challenge. He'd thought Animagus would stretch him a little, but at the moment it was all pretty straightforward, just a matter of patience.

He started to wander up to the library, but then remembered it was Theo's _birthday_, and he wasn't _allowed_ to spend it moping about all by himself. So he turned and went back through the common room, down the stairs and into the dorm, to find Theo sitting quite happily on his bed, experimenting with the harmonica.

"Don't tell Draco you like my present better," Daniel warned him, settling down on his own bed and starting his deep breathing. The discordant sounds Theo was making didn't help, but that was probably a good thing. Forced him to concentrate.

Theo set the harmonica down on his bed and looked at Daniel thoughtfully. "It wasn't a present for me," he said. "It was a present for himself."

That wasn't right at all. "Of course it was for you," he said, sitting up. "It's great."

"Oh sure, it's great," he agreed quickly. "Very generous."

Daniel didn't say anything, not sure what Theo was trying to get at.

"Oh, come _on_," Theo said, swivelling around to face him. "You know what Draco's like, he just loves the attention. He's not actually being _nice_. He wants everyone to know how brilliant he is at presents, just like everything else he's got going for him."

"You're wrong," Daniel told him. "It's a present. For you. From him. Pretty simple. No need to get in a strop."

Theo laughed disbelievingly. Like his feelings were actually hurt, or something.

"I mean it," Daniel said, leaning forwards to catch Theo's eye properly. "He's telling you he's on your _side _in this, and that is a fucking _huge _present, even if it wasn't a one-of-a-kind Quidditch model that's like your best dream ever."

Clearly, Theo hadn't been thinking of it that way at all. "You think?" he said, not sounding convinced. "I don't see why he - oh."

He looked even unhappier, now. "Why can you never just be happy on your damn birthday?" Daniel said, frustrated.

"It's my birthday," Theo said in miserable defiance. "I can be as unhappy as I like."

"Well don't be so unhappy over the best present you've ever got," Daniel told him. "It's rude and ungrateful."

That got Theo laughing, and he even hurled a pillow. "Hypocrite," he said.

"I've never been ungrateful in my life," Daniel told him, ready to drag Theo's mind away from his own birthday, since it seemed to bother him so much. "Do you know when they're doing my birthday this year?"

"Yup," Theo said, lying back looking far more cheerful.

"Am I having it with Crabbe _again_?"

"Of course you are, nitwit," Theo said lazily. "Imagine if we threw a party for just the one of you, and you both thought it was yours."

"It's so exhausting, though," Daniel said. "Pretending to be friends, and everything."

"We could just not bother," Theo threatened mildly. "It's not like the rest of us get two birthdays every year."

"Yeah, that just tears you up inside, I can tell," Daniel said, forgetting that he was meant to be making the conversation about him.

"It'd be nice, actually," Theo said seriously. "A family birthday, and a school birthday. Keep things nice and separate."

"Yeah, it's good," Daniel said, his thought drifting back home before he could stop them. His chest tightened as he realised that maybe now he'd had his last family birthday, ever. As a kid, anyway, when birthdays really mattered. It had been so good, too, going out to see Jurassic Park twice at the cinema, getting Mexican takeaway and eating it at the skate park, going for that long drive deep into the night, with the music up loud and the windows wide open. Becoming a teenager. A new beginning.

It seemed far more than ten weeks ago. It seemed a lifetime.

He didn't realise how quiet he'd gone until Theo broke the silence. "Has something happened at home?" he asked, deadly serious.

It took Daniel a moment to realise what he meant. "No," he said quickly. "No way, not at all."

Theo was watching him far too closely for comfort. "Hm," he said.

"I just miss it there," Daniel said, needing for Theo to not think anything of it. "Since I won't be going back over Christmas, you know."

"I guess," Theo said, not even trying to sound convinced. He might not always read Draco well, or Daniel's non-Slytherin friends, but when it came to Daniel he was getting to be an expert. And it was a right pain.

"What's the blue lightning thing?" Daniel asked.

It worked, but he felt bad about it straight away. Theo's mouth twitched, and he stared grimly at the wall. "I don't want to talk about it," he said flatly.

"What about the blanket, then?" Daniel said, remembering how it had made Theo smile that morning.

He did again, exactly the same smile, which made Daniel grin himself.

"It's a dampener," Theo told him absently, still lost in his little smiley world.

"Yeah, you said," Daniel reminded him. "What does it _do_?"

"Oh, nothing," Theo said, eyes focussing again. "Well, it's meant to muffle magic, but there's no way one Ed made is going to do that. It's just a … a bit of a pick-me-up. About the other present, you know."

"Like he doesn't approve of it, then?" Daniel said, wishing Theo would just come out and say what the damn ball was.

Theo nodded.

"How about the Gobstone, then?" Daniel said, raising his eyebrows meaningfully. "That's taking symbolism a bit far, don't you think?"

Theo smiled wryly. "Do you think it was his idea, or hers?"

"She got the Gobstones," Daniel said confidently. "He convinced her to let him give you one of them."

"And _Seamus_," Theo said, holding his hand out.

Daniel chucked him his pillow back. "So bloody stupid," he said, rolling his eyes. "Trying to attack Blaise Zabini in front of the whole school, at lunchtime, right at the Slytherin table. So _Gryffindor_."

Theo hugged the pillow to his chest and sighed. "He's your friend," he pointed out. "You just have strange taste."

"Ha!" Daniel said in disbelief. "And remind me why it is Blaise is mad at you again? Don't you talk to me about taste."

"At least she has a brain," Theo said, a mite defensively.

"She has at least eighteen brains," Daniel corrected him. "That's probably why … the hair, you know."

Theo started to throw the pillow, but stopped and hugged it against his chest again. "Whatever," he said blithely.

"Did she get you anything?" Daniel said as the thought occurred to him.

Theo smirked.

"Oooh, show me," Daniel demanded. "How did she even know your birthday?"

The smirk widened. "No idea," he said smugly.

"When's hers?"

That put a dent in Theo's mood. "Can you find out from Dean and Seamus?" he said. "I really should think about what to get her."

"Yeah okay," Daniel said carelessly. He was more interested in this present. "I bet she got you a book, didn't she."

"Well, yeah," Theo said. "And it's actually _her _book."

Daniel wasn't much of a fan of that tone of voice. "Just handed off some second hand shit, did she?" he said. "How thoughtful."

"Well it wasn't like she had time to get it from somewhere else," Theo said. "It's a Muggle novel, so it'd take ages to organise, and we're just friends anyway."

"Show me," Daniel demanded, at the end of his patience.

Theo rolled over and rustled about under his bed. "Here," he said, drawing himself up again and handing it over.

It was the most worn out book Daniel had ever seen, but he recognised the title. "Ugh," he said. "I had to read this last summer." It had been a pretty miserable book as far as he was concerned, with the girl dying and everything and then it was over. Just the kind of thing someone like Granger would lap up.

"You hate reading _anything_," Theo said, unconcerned. "Look how much _she's_ read it though. And she gave it to _me_."

He had a point. Daniel didn't understand it himself, but Penny treated some of her books like they were her children, and the attachment was always stronger the more tattered the book was. For Granger to have given away something like this meant Theo was probably right to be smirking.

Theo just better make sure Blaise never saw that book, because if he did, someone was going to get seriously hurt.


	18. House Pride

Daniel really could do without Quidditch in his life. The whole school went berserk, and when the first match of the year was Gryffindor against Slytherin, it wasn't in a good way. The common room got more and more crowded each evening the closer the match drew, filled with students not eager to get themselves into pointless duels with Gryffindors. What was more important was shadowing the players and the emergencies to and from classes, and making sure there were always enough Slytherin spectators at the practices to discourage any Gryffindor mischief.

There were always enough volunteers to go out and keep up appearances and make sure the Gryffindors stayed seething and stupid. There were new blocks to be practised, after all, and kinks to be ironed out of developing spells. Millicent and her friends in fourth year were quickly developing subtle provocation into an art form. If rumour could be believed, a week or so before Hallowe'en three of them had taunted the Gryffindor captain and five of his friends into an open attack, and left them paralysed and lying prostrate on the ceiling.

Dean said it had been four on three Slytherin's way, of course, and that Jo Chalmers had been the first to raise his wand. Either way, it was a huge psychological victory for Slytherin, and even the first years walked a little prouder through the corridors.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

On the Thursday before the Hallowe'en Hogsmeade trip, practically the whole of Slytherin house above first year went along to the Quidditch practice. Daniel, thoroughly sick of going up and sitting in the cold watching a few people fly around on brooms when there wasn't even anything to be won, stayed in to rewrite his Runes project so that Babbling might have some chance of being able to make sense of the thing.

He wasn't usually in the common room with just the younger students. It was relaxing, being one of the big kids for once. The first years were seated casually around a table in the corner, squabbling loudly about whether Suzanne Freelander, a round-faced girl who acted like she was in charge of the lot of them, or Robert Derrick, a tiny boy with strawberry blond hair, had won the "duel" they'd held the night before. Some of them seemed to think that since Derrick had hit Freelander with a tickling curse strong enough to make her giggle halfway through a spell, he should be declared the winner, while the others argued that the burn Freelander had given Derrick was more serious, as it was lasting damage, even if it hadn't had any effect on Derrick's spellcasting.

They were babies, really. Daniel looked around the room in a fit of wistfulness and to his surprise met the dark eyes of Adrian Pucey, who seemed to be doing something similar. He could've sworn that Pucey was a Slytherin Chaser, maybe even the best player they had. It didn't make any sense to see him here during practice. But there he was, sitting in a dark corner, feet up on a table, looking a bit like a kicked puppy.

He smiled bleakly when he saw Daniel looking at him. Too curious to be careful, Daniel got up and went to sit at the same table, taking his parchment and quill with him. "How come you're not out there?" he asked, as though he were just making conversation.

Pucey glowered. "I'm not on the team," he said. "Why aren't you?"

Daniel shrugged, continuing with his copying. "Quidditch isn't really my thing," he said. "And if anyone tries to mess with the practise, so many people are there they'll just get in each other's way, really."

"Nothing's going to happen," Pucey said dismissively. "Gryffindors are a lot of things, but they're not the kind to enjoy victory from anything less than equal footing. They mess with us, they spoil their own win."

"Yeah, I know," Daniel said. "But Quidditch makes people crazy."

Pucey's eyes flashed. "No kidding," he said. "We're a disaster at the moment. Total disaster."

"Really? How come?" Daniel asked, trying to remember hearing anything about things going anything less than perfectly.

Pucey looked at him carefully, then scratched under his chin. "There are people," he said slowly, "who think that maybe Marcus Flint is … well … a complete tosser and the worst possible person to be captain of the team."

That was the first Daniel had heard of it. Admittedly, when the conversation turned to Quidditch he tended to tune out. "He seems a bit of an idiot to me. Not letting girls play, I mean." That was about as much as he'd heard about Flint as captain. "Aren't all the Gryffindor chasers girls?"

Pucey nodded, pulling his feet off the table and slumping back in his seat. "Good, too," he said. "Reaching the top of their game. Chronologically has an 'h' in it, you know."

Daniel looked down. "Shit," he said. "Charm must have died. So how come you're not on the team?"

Pucey shrugged. "I like playing _Quidditch_," he said. "Not politics. I wasn't on the team to spend my evenings developing a_ fouling _strategy, for fuck's sake. Call me crazy, but I see Quidditch practise as a time to improve our Quidditch skills."

"So you quit?" Daniel said, looking over his work and wondering how many other spelling mistakes were in it now his magic quill had apparently worn out.

Pucey chuckled, sounding old and bitter. "Depends who you ask."

"I thought you were pretty good," Daniel invented.

"Thanks," Pucey said, giving him a thoughtful look. "You're in Malfoy's year, right? And Nott's?"

"Yup," Daniel said.

"They're what the team needs right now," Pucey said firmly. "More like Nott, not so many like Bole."

"Oh, Theo doesn't play," Daniel told him. "He just likes the strategy."

"Lauren thinks Snape should give him an official role," Pucey said. "She's really impressed by him. I guess Malfoy is too, giving him that model. If he was a flier, I'd be tempted to give him a spot just so he could be captain."

Daniel stared at him a moment. "What is he, like a genius or something?"

Pucey nodded absently. "But next to Flint, you could say that about any —" he cut off, shaking his head slightly and closing his mouth. "Want me to look over for any other mistakes?"

"Sure," Daniel said, shoving his parchment and quill across eagerly. "Who do you think will be captain next if Flint graduates?"

Pucey shrugged. "Depends." His eyes ran down the parchment, and started underlining words. Daniel bit back a groan. "Has to be someone playing this year, so the best shot is probably Malfoy. He's a bit young though, so maybe Miles. Keepers tend to make good captains. Me, I'm waiting for little Vaisey. The kid's got some flash to him."

"No girls?" Daniel said, thinking of the long-suffering Pucey and Vaisey.

"Well, they're learning not to try out in the first place. I don't really know who can fly," Pucey said. "You shouldn't rely so much on charmed quills you know, it's not like you can use them in exams."

"I don't rely on them," Daniel said. "I just make the most of them."

Pucey set the quill down and sniffed. "I'd better get to my own work," he said reluctantly. "I've got a list as long as … pretty long to memorise for Herbology." He stood up and slid out from behind the table. "Try talking Nott into flying, will you?"

Daniel nodded, pulling across his Runes work and sighing. "Imagine if I'd handed it in like that," he said. "Thanks a lot."

"It's nothing," Pucey said, and headed to the stairs down. The first-years hushed a little as he walked past, then, if anything, got louder. Now they were trying to work out who Snape liked the most, and who was going to come top of Charms. Daniel grabbed out his dictionary and went through his homework with wand and quill, wondering if his year had so blatantly jostled for position when they'd first arrived at Hogwarts. He supposed they had, though at the time he'd just assumed he'd end up down the bottom and hadn't really bothered to assert himself.

By the time he'd finished rewriting, it was time to go down to the dorm before the horde returned from the Quidditch pitch. He spent a short while working on his meditation. He was getting there, he could tell. It was just taking _forever_. To give himself some variety, he'd started to work on what had become his main project lately. He'd thought of it a few days after Snape had let Theo off following him.

He'd started to intentionally pull his mind back to remembering what had happened after what he still thought of as his brain surgery with Snape and Dumbledore. It had taken him about a week, and dozens of short periods of unconsciousness, to work out exactly what kind of thoughts drove him to black out. Now, much like Black had told him to do with his wild finger, he was working on control, and building up his strength. By this stage he could hold vague thoughts about the procedure in his mind without even getting dizzy, and he was getting more confident that soon he'd be able to think about the memories it had unearthed without worrying about dropping out.

The door banged open just as he was waking up from his first faint of the session.

"— completely selfish," Draco was saying heatedly. "Just because he doesn't agree with —"

"We don't know he quit," Theo said. "Hey, Daniel. For all we know, Flint sacked him. Plenty of reasons that could have happened."

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged a glance, dumped their heavy robes and went straight back upstairs.

"All valid reasons, too," Draco said, scowling fiercely and dropping down onto his bed. "He's not stupid, he knew it was coming, and he did _nothing_."

Theo sat more lightly on the end of his own bed. "There's merit in only having players in the team who really want to be there," he said reasonably.

"Pucey and Bletchley were all we had when it came to brains. To _skill_, even. None of the others are natural players. And we're playing _Gryffindor_, at full strength." Draco groaned, and lay down on his back, legs still dangling off the side of the bed.

"Pucey's light," Theo said, almost vaguely. "Weather spells say there'll be storms that weekend, and after too. Warrington'll stay on course."

"Scourge that," Draco said scornfully. "It's the players without a clue who get lost in unfavourable conditions, and you know it. That's why Bole suggested I try getting us out of the match. Because we were outclassed, even back then with Pucey _on_ the team."

Theo shook his head. "That's stupid," he said. "In perfect conditions they'd maul us. We need storms every match."

"I _know_," Draco said. "We don't have the skills to play through poor conditions, but the team as it stands is far too heavy for _good _conditions. It's an absolute disaster."

"You should fly, Theo," Daniel interjected. "Take a spot on the team, get promoted to captain, run things like they should be run."

Draco and Theo both stared at him, Draco sitting up to do so.

"Is that a fact?" Theo said, looking faintly nauseous for some reason.

Daniel shrugged. "Well, you're some kind of Quidditch genius, aren't you? Why can't you fly?"

Draco frowned, and turned to Theo. "It never occurred to me to ask," he said. "Why don't you ever try out?"

"I'm no good," Theo said simply. "It stops making sense, once I'm in the middle of it. I lose my head."

Draco seemed satisfied by that answer.

"Any more suggestions?" Theo asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Yeah," Daniel said, trying to remember what Pucey had said, and mix it in with the football lingo from home that was so close to Quidditch talk. "Bloody well let the girls play, for one, double your options straight away. Gryffindor have done it right, getting a young, talented group and letting them develop together. Put Theo as tactical advisor or something, and definitely make sure to develop Vaisey. He's really important for the future, and he can only benefit from some experience while he's young. You wouldn't want everyone to retire at once, and have to start all over again. You need some continuity."

Draco was as good as gawking, and Theo was looking downright suspicious. Daniel beamed at the both of them.

"Who have you been talking to?" Theo asked. Draco closed his mouth and started to frown.

Daniel shrugged. "A man can't have an opinion?" he said defensively. "I hear things. I _synthesise._"

Theo snorted, and muttered something under his breath. Daniel couldn't catch what it was.

"No one's talking about Vaisey," Draco said dismissively. "You're making things up."

"Oh, speaking of which," Daniel said, ready for a change of subject. "Do either of you have a clue about the History essay? He said it was on the last couple of weeks' material, but we can't possibly be expected to remember all of that, and make any kind of sense of it."

Theo smiled, but said nothing. Draco glanced up at the ceiling then back down again, mouth twitching.

That wasn't how things were meant to go. Daniel scowled at them. "What?" he said.

"He hears things," Draco said calmly, turning to pick up his bag and look through it for something.

"He synthesises," Theo added, scratching idly at his wrist.

"He needs help with his bloody History essay," Daniel said, not at all happy with this easy banter between the two of them. It was entirely new, and it made him nervous. He hated Quidditch.

"Draco can help you," Theo said. "I need to talk to, uh, Pansy."

He left abruptly, leaving Daniel staring at the door and feeling completely left behind.

"History's not due for a week," Draco said casually. "It's not like you be so quick off the mark."

Daniel shrugged and grabbed a book to leaf through. "I like to know what it is I'm leaving until the last minute to do. This essay makes no sense."

"I haven't really looked at it yet," Draco said. "Quidditch, you know."

"Yeah," Daniel said. "I know."

There was a short silence. Daniel knew he had to get out of there. Quickly.

"I have to ask Theo something about Muggle Studies," he said, more loudly than he needed to, and sprang to his feet. "I'll see you later."

As soon as he'd closed the door behind him, he realised how completely _unsmooth _that had been. Damn it, it was meant to be _Draco_'s problem, not his. He made his way quickly up the stairs and looked around for Theo. He found him talking to Eric Vaisey, surprisingly, and reached over to tap him on the shoulder.

"Tomorrow's Muggle Studies is about Hallowe'en, right?" he said.

Theo blinked, and nodded.

"Good," Daniel said, and walked back down to the dormitory. He gave Draco a relaxed kind of a smile as he walked in, and lay down on his bed, the picture of calm.

"Are you wearing a costume to Samhain again?" Draco asked, grey eyes flickering across the pages of a small leather-bound book.

"Maybe," Daniel said carelessly, closing his eyes.

The silence happened again, but this time Daniel told himself it wasn't _him _with the issue, and stayed cool.

"I heard from Father that he can't move Dumbledore on sacking Hagrid," Draco announced then, sounding petulant. "He used up most of his favours last year, apparently."

That was less than fascinating.

"Oh," Daniel said. "Not surprising."

"He says we've got a pretty good chance at getting the hippogriff executed, though," Draco added, a little more cheerfully.

"That's kind of petty," Daniel said absently.

There was a little pause, and Daniel heard Draco move. Sit up, maybe. "What do you mean?" he asked.

Daniel sniffed. "Well everyone's going to realise you're just doing that because you can't do any better," he said, forcing himself not to point out how nothing had actually been the hippogriff's fault, and that killing it would be a real dick move. "Looks a little desperate, you see."

"The thing's dangerous," Draco said, a little quiver in his voice. "You didn't see what it did to me."

Yuck. There weren't many things as distasteful as Draco on one of his pity-plays. "The blame's on Hagrid, not the hippogriff," Daniel said, not bothering to hide his disgust. "Taking out frustration on a dumb animal like that is just embarrassing. Vindictive, too. Makes you look a bit small."

The silence didn't feel as cold as Daniel had thought it would. He opened his eyes slightly to see Draco smirking to himself across on his own bed. He didn't say anything though, and didn't look across at Daniel. Daniel frowned and closed his eyes again.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Draco, Blaise and Pansy started really complaining about Hogwarts Hallowe'en as soon as classes were over on Friday. They did it every year, but Daniel hadn't spent quite so much time with Draco before, which had him spending way more time than was bearable with Pansy as well. He was thoroughly sick of them by Saturday morning, and decided he'd rather go to Theo's study group than spend a moment more hearing about how very _Muggle_ the whole thing had become, and how they all did it _back home_, and how disgraceful it was that none of the proper traditions were being upheld in such a prestigious school.

Blaise's family wasn't even European, Daniel knew. As far as he'd heard there wasn't Hallowe'en in Africa, or Samhain, or All Saints Day, or Nos Calan Gaeaf, or any of the millions of names Daniel had heard it called. So he didn't know what Blaise was getting all hoity-toity about. And Draco was French, at least a few generations back, and Daniel doubted _they _gave a damn whether the jack-o-lanterns were made out of turnip or pumpkin.

So he'd escaped the mind-numbing snobbery of the pureblooded, and spent most of the day with Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws and Theo. It wasn't so bad. He got started on the History essay, and even managed to catch up a little in Defense. It was boring though, and by mid-afternoon he was starting to get a little crazy with all the quiet and the concentration.

"I need some air," he announced, packing his stuff up quickly. "I'll go take a walk."

He got a few acknowledging nods, but mostly people were focussed on their work. Disgusting. He made his way out of the library and headed down to the Slytherin rooms, trying to think of something he could do that wouldn't make his head explode, either from overwork or deadly boredom.

"_Perfuso sonitus_!" someone hissed from nearby. Some air in front of Daniel's face stretched and popped softly, as he reflexively hurled himself back from the unfamiliar incantation, barely keeping his feet and stumbling back against the wall.

He shoved a hand in his bag to find his wand, scanning the apparently empty corridor for the source of the spell. _Sonitus _was sound, but _perfuso _was a mystery. Probably some kind of homegrown silencing charm. Pretty standard tactics.

"Testing, testing," he said quietly, looking over the various portraits and tapestries that could easily be hiding his attacker, getting a little frustrated at all the pointless junk in his bag. He heard the words as he said them, but they sounded too quiet, and with an odd stuffy quality to them.

"_Pulso_!" that same voice said, louder this time. The lightness of the voice meant it was either a girl, or a youngish boy. His bag pulled away from him regardless, and was hurled down the corridor.

A portrait of an old, feeble-looking man with a wand in each hand pointed down the corridor, in the same direction his bag had flown. Daniel wasn't stupid, though. He could tell the general area the voice was coming from, and _pulso _meant push, not pull. Hogwarts portraits could be real bitches.

The most likely place someone could hide out and cast from was behind a big blue tapestry about twenty feet away in what Daniel thought had to be the right direction. He started to back up slowly, towards his wand, sitting somewhere amongst all the junk in his bag. He kept a cautious eye on the tapestry, and when it swayed slightly he tensed, ready to duck out of the way of the next spell when it came.

Now he could watch where it was coming from, things should be a whole lot easier.

"_Congelo_!"

Daniel ducked easily out of the way of the freezing charm, its ray translucent and shimmering, then grabbed up his bag and rifled through it for his wand, watching the tapestry for any more movement. It wasn't like he was facing tough spells, or anything. They hadn't thrown anything above second year level at him. If he could just _find _his _wand_, the thing would be over. And he wouldn't be running, not from an attack as pissweak as this.

The tapestry shifted again, and Daniel took a couple of hasty steps to the side as another cool jet of air shot out at him, pressing his back against the wall of the corridor. At the same time he finally got a hand on his wand, which was apparently keeping his place in one of his textbooks, and another charm came at him from the tapestry, slightly off-target this time. He slid out of its way anyway, only to get hit in his wand shoulder by another one.

A slight numbness spread from his shoulder down to the elbow, and halfway across his chest. He forced his arm to move long enough to be able to pass the wand across to his left hand, and let himself get a little angry, now. If some kid was _hustling _him, they were going to fucking regret it.

"_Finite_," he said impatiently, striding forward as the numbness flew easily out of his shoulder. The air in front of him seemed to relax, as well. He held back from switching his wand back into his right hand. Those spells had come _quick_. For all he knew, a seventh-year Gryffindor was just playing with him. It was _possible_ they could have enough subtlety to send out purposely weak spells to begin with. He wouldn't give them a single chance to hit him until he knew what he was dealing with.

The tapestry was about ten feet long. He didn't have much chance of hitting whoever was behind it with any kind of beam spell, and he probably couldn't just blast everything to hell in the hope that he'd hit them as well. School rules, and everything.

The air snapped again, and this time it thickened not only in front of his face but what felt like all around his head. The sound of his pulse grew heavy in his ears, and the rest of the world fell into a stuffy kind of silence.

"_Finite_," he repeated, irritated. He _hated _invisible spells.

Just as his hearing sorted itself out again, a jet of red light burst out from the left side of the tapestry. He was caught undecided between blocking the spell and aiming one of his own at the forearm the caster had left exposed. Not confident of being able to do either with his left hand, he ducked out of the way at the last second, switching his wand, and shooting off a haphazard sticking charm at the tapestry.

The next spell came from the other side of the tapestry. Another disarming spell. How thrilling. Daniel stepped out of the way, taking careful aim at the arm that had emerged, and put everything he had into one of his favourite spells.

"_Sonorus_!" he said as softly as he could manage, and took a few quick steps up closer to the tapestry. He hoped to hell they'd just been casting quietly. If they could cast completely silently, he was way outclassed.

An ear-splitting murmur of, "_Petrificus_," filled the corridor. As soon as he saw the wand, Daniel ducked across and closer to the tapestry, laying sticking charms all along where the arm was touching the tapestry.

"Shit!" the person behind the tapestry said, their tone soft but the volume enormous.

As quickly as he could, determined to finish this off before someone came to see what the noise was all about, Daniel levitated the bottom of the tapestry with all his might.

"_Finite! Finite!_" his attacker yelped, the sound filling the corridor and making Daniel's hands jump up toward his ears.

Daniel's spells held firm, and he watched in satisfaction as the bottom end of the tapestry hit the ceiling, leaving his attacker hanging in mid-air, suspended by his left sleeve, wand held awkwardly in his right and pointing down at Daniel. Where he had been standing there was an alcove about five feet deep and as long as the tapestry, a perfect spot for an ambush. Daniel was embarrassed he hadn't known about it already.

"Drop it," Daniel advised, looking up at his attacker. "You're done."

The little blond boy narrowed ice-blue eyes, and his grip firmed on his wand.

"It was a good try," Daniel said, feeling gracious. "But you're what, second year? If you hadn't been hiding out, I'd have wiped the floor with you. You know it."

"Let me down," the boy whispered. "Or I'll scream."

That was … a good line, all things considered. "Make sure you land on your feet," Daniel advised him. "_Finite_."

All the spells ended at once, so the yelp didn't bust Daniel's eardrums as the boy hit the ground and was hit solidly in the face by the tapestry swinging itself back down to the wall. He fumbled his way back out, wand back in his left hand. The knuckles of that hand were losing all their colour.

Daniel could see a few people hovering at the end of the corridor, Slytherins, and older for the most part, watching curiously but not interfering, just yet.

"Are you stupid?" Daniel asked the boy. "Attacking someone older than you, a Slytherin, _down here in Slytherin_, all on your own?"

The boy lifted his chin proudly. A Gryffindor. "I'm not afraid of you," he declared.

"Oh, there's no reason to be afraid of _me_," Daniel said airily. "But look."

He pointed over the boy's shoulder at the half dozen or so students hovering a short distance away. The boy swallowed thickly.

"They're on my side," Daniel pointed out simply. "Lucky for you I had you beat before they turned up."

"Yeah, pretty embarrassing for you if they had to save you from me, huh?" the boy said.

God damn Gryffindors and their sass. He wanted this kid to _cower_, or at least to admit that he owed Daniel for letting him down at all.

"Worse for you than for me," he said. "Now do you want me to get you out of here, or can you make your own way?"

"I'll be fine," the boy said quickly. "I'm not scared."

Daniel shrugged. "Fine," he said. "Thanks for the tussle. Next time maybe bring a dozen or so of your friends, see if you can even things up a bit. I'll start without my wand again, and you can hide behind anything you like. Maybe next time you could attack me while I was taking a piss, or asleep, or something."

The boy's cheeks flushed a pale pink, and his mouth tightened. He didn't seem to be able to think of anything to say.

Daniel tried for a smirk. "Go on," he said. "Go tell your mates how brave you've been."

The boy turned on his heel and walked unflinchingly towards and through the bunch of Slytherins, looking straight ahead until he was out of Daniel's sight. Daniel watched him go, and then checked the ground where the boy had been hanging in case he'd dropped anything cool.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

As he entered the common room Daniel spotted Jacqui Savant about to head out, and held her up for a moment.

"What's the name of the blond Gryffindor boy in your year?" he asked, looking around for Theo as he did.

"What?"

When he looked back at her Daniel took a half-step back. Jacqui was glaring at him suspiciously, black eyes narrowed. "The blond boy," Daniel elaborated. "White-blond, and blue eyes. Hair spikes up at the front."

She shrugged, eyes still narrowed. "Lucas, I think. What's it to you?"

"You _think_?" Daniel said doubtfully. "He is a second year, right?"

"Yes, of course," Jacqui said, suddenly brisk. "I told you, his name's Lucas. Adrian Lucas, or maybe Rory. I don't remember. I have to go now, I'm late. I think Malfoy was looking for you, he's downstairs."

The distraction was beautifully done. After he'd made his way through a moment of panic, one of embarrassment that he'd been panicked and then some vague interest in whatever Draco might have to say, Jacqui was long gone out into the corridor. So Daniel made his way slowly down to the dorm, wondering about second years and hoping that Draco had used up all his complaints about Hallowe'en by now.


	19. Hogsmeade

Daniel hadn't realised, until he was standing in line with dozens of other students in the Entrance Hall, just how much he'd been looking forward to going to Hogsmeade. He was _tingling_, he was so eager to get out of the castle, and even the condescending looks from older students couldn't dull his excitement. Filch was clearing students for the trip one by one, agonisingly slowly.

"Someone hit you with an itching hex?" Theo said, just barely holding back a smile, his hands in his pockets.

"Oh, like dignity matters," Daniel scoffed.

"Staying here, Potter?" Draco called out from ahead of them. "Scared of passing the Dementors?"

Daniel and Theo looked at each other, then back to where Potter was going up the stairs alone. Leaving. _Not coming to Hogsmeade._

"Damn," Theo said, "So much for that plan."

"Draco's going to be sulking all day," Daniel said. "Let's stay out of his way."

"Yeah," Theo agreed, and Daniel felt himself relax a little.

"Good," he said. "You said this Three Broomsticks place serves real grog, right?"

Theo blinked at him. "Uh, yeah," he said. "Pubs tend to do that."

"Mad," Daniel said approvingly, then went back to being impatient. "What exactly is Filch doing, cavity searches?"

"Cav —" Theo repeated before trailing off, looking a little queasy. "There's only a few to go," he said. "Just _wait_."

Daniel waited, and then gave his name when Filch demanded it, feeling ridiculously satisfied when he could remember the _other_ name, and stay steady on his feet. He grinned widely at the man, and received a sour mumble in response.

"Thanks bro," he said, hurrying out the big doors to be brought up short straight away by all the students who had gotten through so far. They were all standing around impatiently, huddled in groups to shelter each other from the wind, which had a lot of bite to it for late October. Daniel spotted Draco and headed over to the opposite side of the group, seeing Terry standing with Corner and going to join them.

"What are we waiting for?" he asked, interrupting Corner telling what sounded like a long, involved joke.

"You fucker," Corner said furiously, and Terry laughed. "Not funny," Corner protested. "It won't be the same, now."

"McGonagall's making a speech or something," Terry told Daniel. "We have to wait until everyone's here."

Theo came up to them then, slipping his wand into his pocket. "Chilly, huh?" he said peaceably. "What's the holdup?"

"Well they're not going to let us scamper off just like that," Daniel told him. "We need a briefing first."

Corner snorted. "Unbelievable," he said, and sulked.

No one said anything for a while. Theo's eyes slid across to the Gryffindors, and Corner and Terry both kept glancing across towards Lisa and Goldstein. Daniel pulled out his beanie, tugged it over his head, then huddled himself into his jacket and refused to join them in their gawking.

"May I have everyone's attention, please!" McGonagall said eventually, her voice curt. The doors swung closed, and everyone shuffled around to face the witch in the pointed hat. "There are several things that need to be said before we begin on our way."

Daniel exhaled loudly, watching his breath puff out in front of him.

"There will be no entering any residential areas," McGonagall began, and Daniel decided to use the time to practise his Animagus meditation. The cold made it a little bit more difficult, and there were far more distractions than he was used to, but he supposed that was a good thing in the long run.

He came out of his trance when Terry poked him. "— has not returned by that time," McGonagall was saying, "will be losing points for their house as well as receiving other, variable punishments. You have all been warned."

"What?" Daniel whispered at Terry. "What's the matter?"

"You weren't even listening, were you?" Terry said as noise swelled up all around them and people started to follow McGonagall down the grounds.

"Oh, Daniel doesn't believe in listening," Theo said, setting off. "He trusts us to protect him from all the dangers she just outlined specifically using the defences as explained to us, all the evil wizards and monsters and guard curses."

Daniel laughed, but his gut clenched at the word 'monster', and a chill passed over him. He wasn't sure why, until Draco's words to Potter came back to him like he was hearing them for the first time. _Scared of passing the Dementors?_

He faltered, trying to remember where Dumbledore had said the Dementors would be. Guarding the school, sure, but they wouldn't be anywhere near Hogsmeade. They couldn't be. People _lived_ there. He shivered, and forced himself to keep walking, eyes fixed on the ground. He didn't want to look up and see people looking worried, because that meant they would be seeing the Dementors. But he didn't want everyone to be fine and happy, either, because that would make him feel even more chicken than he was now.

So he trudged along, stewing, trying to force back the memory of the Dementor on the train. He managed it for a while, but eventually he couldn't help himself from dwelling on the memories it had dragged out of him. Vague memories of all the miserable places he'd lived when he was really little, the other kids, the 'guardians', all easily overshadowed by the loss of his home, just months ago. He could almost hear their verdict now, smell that horrible clean car smell that had stayed in his nose for days afterwards, feel the tears rising up yet again.

"Hey," Theo said from behind him, putting a hand in between his shoulder blades and pushing, making him stumble a little to keep his feet under him. "We're past them now, come on."

Daniel looked up, surprised to see them right at the tail of the group, Terry and Corner nowhere to be seen. He sped up, so Theo would stop pushing. "Huh?" he said impressively.

Theo appeared beside him again, looking grim. "The Dementors," he said. "We're past them."

"Oh," Daniel said.

Theo grabbed his jacket sleeve and tugged him forward, not letting up until they were in the thick of the mass of students. "Sorry I'm such an ass," Daniel said as his mind started to clear, helped a great deal by the noise and warmth all around them.

"Shit," Theo said. "You _do _get it bad."

"Fuck off," Daniel said immediately, rubbing his nose, which was going numb with cold. "Are we there yet? And what did the tyrant say in her speech anyway?"

Theo shrugged. "I can't see ahead any more than you can," he pointed out. "Shouldn't be much further, though."

"You're useless," Daniel said. "The speech?"

"Try listening next time," Theo suggested.

Daniel almost asked how Theo was doing with the Dementor and everything, but, same as before, he didn't really want to know either way. Just as he thought maybe he could find Draco to find out where it was he'd be avoiding, the crowd was spreading out and they were in Hogsmeade.

Daniel's first thought was that it didn't look as fun as Diagon Alley. It was more open, single-storey buildings, all separated from each other, letting the wind really work up some speed before hitting him in the face. No one who lived there seemed to be around, probably scared off by the hundred and fifty students making themselves at home.

Theo looked at him expectantly.

"Pub," he said.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The first building they reached that was more than one storey tall looked a little like a barn, with a thatched roof and squat stone walls. Its door was wide open, an arc made of three broomsticks over the lintel and the words 'STUDENT DISCOUNT : 1 STUDENT, 3 BUTTERBEERS, 5 SICKLES!' glittering a bright yellow against the dark grey walls. Only a few students went in; most continued into the town centre, where about a dozen buildings stood head and shoulders above the rest of the village.

Daniel followed Theo in, into what almost felt like a wall of warmth, and sound, and smell. The place was busier than the rest of Hogsmeade had looked, with men and women, young and old, mingling around large oval tables and hovering at the bar. The ceiling was lower than he'd expected, and there were three fires he could see, and possibly more around corners, or up where the wide wooden stairs led up to another level, half a storey up.

The place smelled sweeter than Muggle pubs, and it took Daniel a moment to realise it was because apart from a table in the front corner where everyone in the group of people in their thirties or so had a pipe, nobody was smoking. He wandered up to the bar, and Theo followed him, not looking entirely comfortable pushing past the cluster of adults.

A bald man with enormous mismatched gold and silver earrings saw them, and moved out of their way with a nod and a wink. He shoved the woman next to him off her stool, and when she swore at him he just waved a thumb in the direction of the two boys. "Got to be hospitable for the young 'uns, eh?" he said, his voice surprisingly high-pitched. "Got to start 'em young." He laughed a gurgly laugh, and motioned for them to sit on the two empty stools.

"Cheers," Daniel said, hopping up.

The woman, much younger than the man and with long black hair and watery blue eyes, sighed. "Let's go," she said. "I should really pay back Aberforth before he follows through with that curse he's been working on."

"Ah, yes," the man said. "Here lads. Eat, drink and be merry." He dumped half a dozen sickles on the bar, scooped up his glass and downed the rest in one long gulp. The two of them made their way effortlessly out to the door.

"Excellent," Daniel said, putting his hand over the silver. "This place is great."

Theo looked uncomfortable, eyes flickering around trying to keep track of everything happening in the room. "I dunno," he said. "It's a bit … adult."

"Come on, let's have a drink," Daniel said. "We can get that deal they had outside, what do you think? Two sickles each, three drinks each today. Bargain."

Theo shrugged. "Okay, get them and let's find a table."

"You find the table," Daniel instructed him. "I'll get the drinks."

Theo regarded him warily. "Butterbeer," he said in warning.

"Gimme money then."

Theo provided the two silver coins, then ducked back away from the bar and headed in the direction of the stairs. Daniel caught the eye of the barmaid, who was pretty despite looking about forty years old, and ordered two student specials. She gave him a friendly smile, welcomed him to the Three Broomsticks in a slight Scottish accent, took the money, ducked away, and came back with two pints of a frothy golden liquid.

"Other one's for your friend, the skinny boy?" she said, holding a hand up for a woman down the other end to wait a moment. "You two come back whenever you like for the other two, I'll remember."

"Sure," Daniel said, grabbing the drinks and squeezing his way out from the bar. He found Theo upstairs at a little table by a window, and dumped the glasses down on the table.

"Cheers," Theo said, sipping at his beer.

Daniel raised his own glass and took a gulp. "Huh," he said. "I thought this was meant to be alcohol."

"It is," Theo said. "Children's alcohol."

It was nice, anyway. Warm and smooth. Comforting. Daniel decided not to complain. "So what are we going to do today now the plan's off?"

Theo shrugged, visibly relaxing as he drank again, this time more deeply. "Well, Honeydukes and Zonko's will be packed all morning, no point going there for a couple of hours yet. Maybe Dervish and Banges, or the Shrieking Shack."

"We should just go exploring," Daniel said. "I mean, it's a whole village, there's got to be interesting stuff outside of the tourist attractions."

"No residential areas, remember?" Theo said. "Or did you actually stop listening the moment McGonagall started to talk."

"Hey!" someone shouted, maybe in their direction. "Livingstone! Nott! You're wanted outside!"

Daniel looked down where the voice had come from, then at Theo. "You see who it was?"

Theo shook his head and started to get up.

"Oh, come on," Daniel said, grabbing his wrist. "At least finish the drink. Or let me finish it."

"I don't think you _can _get drunk on butterbeer, if that's what you're trying for."

Daniel rolled his eyes. "Just don't waste it, is all I'm saying. Might be a Gryffindor trap outside anyway."

"Hardly," Theo said, drinking about half his glass then setting it down again. "They'll stick to the amnesty."

"Pity," Daniel said. "I'm in the mood for a bit of a scrum." He finished his own drink in three long swigs, and stood ready to go. "I like that stuff," he said. "Even if it could do with more of a kick."

Theo polished off his own and stood, glancing at Daniel with a funny look in his eye. Daniel couldn't tell what it meant, so he just said, "Good to go?"

Theo nodded, so they headed down the stairs and back out into the street.

"Fuck," Daniel complained as the cold and the wind hit him all at once. He wished he'd taken off his jacket in the pub, so he could put it on again now. There wasn't even anyone waiting for them, just a few Ravenclaws turning the corner to head up to the Shrieking Shack.

"You swear too much," Theo commented. "Are we going back in?"

"Nah," Daniel said, starting to walk further into the village. "We're out here now, might as well go exploring."

"Hey, did Draco say anything to you about today?" Theo said once they were moving.

"You were there," Daniel said evenly. "There's no secret plan."

"Oh, okay," Theo said blandly. "That's good."

Daniel almost asked him if Granger was here with Weasley, but realised just in time that Theo would realise he was making the connection. "Yeah well I'd like having a plan right about now," he said instead. "I thought Hogsmeade was meant to be exciting."

"You rather be back in the castle?" Theo asked.

"Hell no," Daniel said. "Let's check out this Dervish and Banges place. Where's that?"

"Out the other side," Theo said. "As you'd know, if you'd _listened._"

Daniel shrugged and sped up. "You did," he said. "Sharing is caring."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He didn't _have _to keep providing the potion for Lupin. Technically, he was doing it as a favour to Dumbledore and if he were to refuse, it would be well within his rights. It was taking up far too much of his time, the students were suffering for it, and he quite simply did not have the time to look after Slytherin as well as he should be. He should be keeping a closer eye on Livingstone's recovery, tutoring Davison, looking for Zabini's seemingly-forgotten attacker, talking some sense into Flint about his absurd Quidditch tactics, being more accessible for the first years, who were an unusually rambunctious lot this year, and a dozen other things.

The alternatives to him brewing the potion were not to be borne. Knowing Dumbledore, he may just fall back on his erstwhile method of pest control, and close the beast up in its old tunnel every month. It was hard to believe that any sane man would do such a thing, with a homicidal maniac on the loose who was familiar with both ends of the passage and who had a history of using Lupin to get rid of his enemies. But then, it was _Dumbledore_, who hadn't seemed to mind all that much the last time Black had tried it.

Snape had to set down the goblet, his hands were shaking so hard.

More likely, he told himself, Dumbledore would seek another source of Wolfsbane. That could end up even worse, with the slightest error made in the brewing rendering it either useless or extremely hazardous. He'd heard of contaminated Wolfbane inflicting sharp stabs of pain near constantly, something he would wholeheartedly endorse in Lupin's case if it didn't also increase the beast's savagery tenfold. One particularly nasty batch in Canada had increased the subject's resistance to magic while transformed. There had been dozens of deaths in Alberta that full moon, along with hundreds of Muggle casualties. And with Lupin's habit of _staying in his office _while transformed, the result would doubtless be carnage.

So he waited for his hands to still and his mind to develop a semblance of calm. He lifted the goblet again, and made his way up to Lupin's office, steps heavy and reluctant. At least the brats had all run off to Hogsmeade, so he didn't have to go through the infuriating procedures required to transport such a delicate potion through the Floo. He could walk the corridors, carrying the only damn thing keeping the lot of them safe. It wasn't too much of a stretch to call it the future of wizarding Britain.

At the door to Lupin's office Snape took a deep breath, steeled his nerves and knocked.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Dervish and Banges was a big place, wide and roomy, with shelves full of weird and wonderful things that Daniel could see himself spending years trying to puzzle out. He walked from front to back, Theo hanging back to look at the toys in the window.

The first thing to really catch his eye was a deep green velvety box the size of his head hovering at waist height in the air, a foot or so out from the back wall. There was what looked like pink and yellow pollen spurting out from it, then being slowly pulled back in to rest on the surface.

He held his hands together to stop them from reaching out to it, and watched it for a couple of minutes, unable to work out any pattern to the eruptions.

"That's Rossiter's Hexahedron," someone said enthusiastically from behind Daniel. He turned to look at her and found himself looking almost straight across at a short, wrinkly woman with haphazard grey hair and an intense gaze. "Developed by the Sussex Wallace family in the fifteenth century and the first of its kind to fully incorporate the seemingly obsolete Reacher Charm into the groundbreaking work done by Jarvis Mason on the behaviours and interactions of wizard and non-wizard magic when allowed to mingle unregulated."

Daniel stared at her. "Oh," he said lamely. "It's … uh … colourful."

"Oh, yes," she said, eyes bright. "For years friends and colleagues told Patricia Wallace that her aesthetic choices were a disgrace to the sensibilities of the wizarding world. Many imitations were attempted, all in what was considered better taste, until Patricia's brother Trevor unearthed the theory of —"

"Theo!" Daniel said, seeing his friend wander up to them. The woman fell silent immediately. "Look at the pretty box!"

Theo looked from him to it, and back again. "Pretty," he commented. "What's it do?"

"I have to go now," Daniel said firmly. "You should probably come. That meeting that I think we're late for."

"Ah," Theo said. "I'd forgotten."

"Bye!" Daniel told the woman, who was now watching the box calmly. "Nice listening to you!"

He walked as quickly as he could to the door, and hit the cold air this time in relief. "Phew!" he said. "She's worse than Granger, that one. So many words, all in a row."

"Sounded kind of interesting," Theo said. "That stuff out the front is, anyway. Beats me why the place is so empty."

Daniel thought he could make a pretty good guess.

As they walked back towards the centre of the village, where there were still huge crowds in and around Zonko's and Honeydukes, they met Draco, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle coming out of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. They fell in step before they realised what they were doing. By now Crabbe and Goyle didn't react, and Pansy only pouted slightly at their inclusion.

"Where have you been?" Draco asked. "Crikey, it's warmed up, hasn't it?"

The sun had come out while they were in Dervish and Banges, and the wind had mostly died down. Daniel hadn't really noticed until Draco had mentioned it, but he was getting a bit too hot in his heavy jacket. He liked it though, so he just opened it at the front and kept it on.

"Dervish and Banges," Theo said. "Strange shopkeeper, there."

"Oh, old Talia got to you, did she?" Draco said. "She must be better, if Walter's letting her talk to customers again. Either of you need anything from Gladrags? Someone's taken Crabbe's hat, and he needs one for the feast tonight."

Daniel shrugged and then shook his head.

"I need a present for my cousin Albert," Pansy said. "I told him I'd get him something that was popular at Hogwarts."

Draco wasn't listening to her. "What _is _that?" he asked, looking at Daniel's head disapprovingly.

"It's a beanie," Daniel said, adjusting it slightly on his head. "What does it look like?"

Crabbe and Goyle ducked into the clothes shop. Pansy seemed torn between following them in and staying outside with Draco.

"It looks ridiculous," Draco said. "Where did it come from?"

"A shop," Daniel said. "I got it for my birthday."

Pansy sighed loudly, and when Draco glanced around at the noise, she turned and flounced into Gladrags. Hardly noticing, Draco turned back to frown at Daniel.

"What's the point of it?"

"Why do you think Potter didn't come?" Daniel asked. "Because of Black?"

"I don't want to talk about _Potter_," Draco said. "I'm having a lovely time in a world where he simply doesn't exist."

Crabbe and Goyle came back out then, a very shiny black hat sitting on Goyle's head. Draco nodded approvingly. "That was nice and quick," he said. "Let's go. I can get us a table at the Three Broomsticks for lunch."

"Oh, how jolly decent of you," Daniel said acidly. Theo chuckled.

"Sure you don't want to go to Puddifoot's?" Theo asked Draco, eyes wicked.

"Oh, Pansy," Draco said, turning quickly to face Gladrags. "We should probably wait for her."

"We'll wait," Goyle said, reaching up to take the hat off, trying to look casual.

Crabbe reached over and slapped his hand away. "I said all day," he said.

Goyle rolled his eyes. "You go get a table," he told Draco. "We'll come across when Pansy's done."

"Right," Draco said briskly. "Remember, you're to do nothing to any Gryffindors. _Nothing_."

"We know," Crabbe grumbled.

"Yeah, you said," Goyle said at the exact same time.

"Good," said Draco, apparently immune to their testiness. "Let's go, then."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Harry Potter was drinking tea in Lupin's office. Snape couldn't think of a single good thing that could come of that. Not one.

"Ah, Severus," Lupin said, smiling his insipid smile. "Thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me?"

Snape felt like telling him that yes, of course he could do that, as _he_ always had full control of his limbs and mental faculties. But the presence of Potter's brat in the room was something he would have to tread carefully around. So he did as Lupin had suggested, noticing the boy's suspicious glare and the wary look he gave the smoking goblet.

Why wasn't the whelp in Hogsmeade with the rest of the little monsters? Did he make a habit of these private chats with Lupin? What on earth did they have to talk about? Snape shuddered to think.

"I was just showing Harry my Grindylow," Lupin said.

"Fascinating," Snape replied, giving that pretence the consideration it deserved. "You should drink that directly, Lupin."

"Yes, yes, I will," the werewolf said casually. Ungrateful wretch.

"I made an entire cauldronful," Snape told him, "If you need more." Key word _need_. To _drink the potion._ It wasn't unreasonable to want to see it, to need to _know_ that Lupin was taking the potion as he should. Any man with a shred of decency wouldn't make such a song and dance of the thing.

So, of course, Lupin did. "I should probably take some again tomorrow," he said, as if the both of them didn't know exactly how often he had to take the damn thing. Snape held himself in check only because the Potter boy was there, though the brat didn't deserve any such consideration, with that look in those eyes. Like he thought Snape was a danger. The irony almost smothered Snape right then and there.

"Thanks very much, Severus," Lupin added, more pointedly that time.

He clearly wasn't going to touch the goblet until Snape was gone. And the longer Snape stayed, the closer he was coming to grabbing the potion and forcing it down the brute's throat. Which just wouldn't do, however he looked at it.

"Not at all," he forced out, keeping his voice even. He moved backward, appraising the both of them as long as he could, closing the door on them once he was outside the room. He stared at the door for a moment, breathing deeply.

The boy didn't know about Lupin. He was idiotic enough to keep it a secret if Lupin had told him, but the werewolf's behaviour had made it obvious he was still keeping his secret. Befriending his old friend's son, buttering him up with stories of the good old days, probably winning the boy's admiration with by regaling him with all the _hilarious_ pranks Potter and Black had played. Snape held no illusions that Lupin would keep his name out of it. Not after Longbottom and the Boggart.

Lupin had adored Black, and there was no reason whatsoever to believe that had stopped being the case. Black would find it painfully easy to manipulate Lupin, like he always had. He had the man's measure, and _was _his weakness. And through Lupin, he'd find it all too easy to get to the Potter boy. Maybe now Dumbledore would listen when Snape told him not to trust the damned werewolf.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Time flew by in the Three Broomsticks, where after a while they were joined by Millicent and a bunch of her fourth year friends. Daniel hadn't had much to do with them, but Draco knew Montague and Warrington pretty well from Quidditch, and Millicent was surprisingly outgoing when she was with her real friends, so there weren't too many awkward moments. Goyle was quickly entranced by Maureen Adamson, who Daniel had heard made it her life's work to torment boys. Elizabeth McBurney was apparently made of money, and couldn't seem to stop buying people drinks, no matter how much they protested they had money of their own. There were about a dozen of at their table, and Daniel was pretty sure even Theo was enjoying himself after a few more butterbeers and some attention from Adamson.

Chalmers and Millicent re-told for the millionth time the story of their triumph over the Gryffindor seventh years, the table erupting into gales of laughter as Millicent cried, "Levus Prosterno! Levus Prosterno!" and Chalmers described in exquisite detail the expressions on each of the Gryffindor's faces as they'd lain stuck to the ceiling. Daniel chipped in with his victory over the so-called Lucas, and found out that Julian Frobisher had watched the whole thing from a nearby doorway. He didn't call Daniel out on any of the embellishments he'd made to the story though, and in fact added some blatant lies of his own that made Daniel seem much smarter and quicker than he really had been.

By the time they'd wound down, completely out of energy but warm and content, there was only about half an hour until they had to go back to Hogwarts. They moved out of the pub en masse, but Goyle had to go back in to get Crabbe's hat, and then Montague had left his cloak behind, and Millicent had somehow lost a sock, so they all trooped back in. Frobisher made himself very popular with his mastery of summoning charms, and was duly rewarded with a smacking kiss from McBurney. Daniel asked Theo if he'd like to rethink his claim about not getting drunk from butterbeer, but Theo just waved a hand and said he was pretty sure McBurney had been lacing their drinks, because _he _certainly wasn't so affected by something so weak as butterbeer.

Other students were arriving at the edge of the village by then, and once there was a decent-sized group McGonagall called them all to attention and started to read out names from a list. As she called out each person's name they walked past her, and to Daniel's surprise every single person on the list was there when she called their name. The Weasley twins argued loudly over who was who when McGonagall called up Fred, until she just let them go past her together.

Everyone was in good spirits as they set off back to Hogwarts. Even when Chalmers started up a soft chant among the Slytherins of, "Levus prosterno! Levus prosterno!" he only got a halfhearted shove from some fifth-year Gryffindor boys, and some sweet wrappers thrown at him from somewhere ahead of them.

The high spirits took on an edge of belligerence when they neared the entrance to Hogwarts grounds. This time, Daniel looked up to see the Dementors in the middle distance as the students all quickened their paces and kept up the chatter, sounding perhaps a little more shrill than before, but unwavering all up to the front doors of the castle.


	20. Hallowe'en

Snape sat and watched stoically as the students piled into the Hall, the younger ones pointing excitedly at the pumpkins and bats and getting buffeted about by the upper years making a beeline for the food. Students were always intolerable after a day in Hogsmeade. They came back all spirited and independent: a nightmare to govern. If Dumbledore didn't believe so firmly that all staff should attend the formal feasts, Snape would be nowhere near the lot of them. He could go and get some work done, for once without fear of interruption. As it was he was stuck here with nothing to do but eat and glower for however long it took the ravening beasts to eat their fill.

Lupin was looking cheerful, the sociopath. At least Snape had managed to get a seat well out of the way of the werewolf, between McGonagall and Vector, two of the less ridiculous professors in the school. McGonagall was a Hallowe'en purist, and was already tutting at the lurid orange streamers writhing across the ceiling. They were in poor taste, certainly, but their presence was easily offset by the pleasure of seeing someone else more fed up than he. He managed a small smile and reached for the mead.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Three bowls of pork and apple stew and two soul cakes into the feast, Daniel had decided there definitely should be compulsory spiked butterbeers every lunchtime. There had been other Hallowe'en feasts, and the ones at each end of the school year were pretty good too, but this was _brilliant_. After the day at Hogsmeade the distinction between different years had blurred, as the more outgoing students drew the attention of as many housemates as they could and shared the events of their day, which got more and more ridiculous as the meal went on. Goyle was still wearing Crabbe's hat, and neither of them would explain why.

When the desserts came out, Draco presented an enormous chunk of glowing toffee, putting it down with a heavy clunk on the table among the fruit cakes, apple crumbles and mini cauldrons full of toffee apples. Daniel was full to busting, but that didn't stop his mouth from watering at the sight of it all.

"Oh, I _love _this stuff," Bole exclaimed, as his fellow Beater Jason Derrick lunged over to grab at it. There was a soft snap, and a piece about the size of his thumb broke off, gleaming softly in his hand. That kicked off what was effectively a melee, with everyone scrambling to get a piece before it was all gone. Daniel didn't know what all the fuss was about, but he wasn't going to let that stop him.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Normally, Snape would look to his prefects to calm any commotions at the Slytherin table, but even Miller and Chalmers seemed to have been infected with the same madness as the rest. Some of the more unruly students were literally diving for the middle of the table, shoving each other aside in an attempt to get their hands on the toffee. His head started to ache terribly, and everywhere he looked there were children having fun, rubbing it in.

Draco Malfoy was getting cocky, it seemed. Cocky, but canny as well. Technically, the traditional warding sweet was banned at Hogwarts, it and all other items which were capable of banding together the magic of large groups of people, no matter how benign its purpose. It looked like the stupid boy had brought enough for everyone in Slytherin. He wondered if any of them had a clue how vulnerable they had just made themselves, how open the younger ones were to being taken advantage of magically.

It pained Snape to think how much use such a large piece could be put to in a place that truly needed it. How many remote villages in the highlands of Scotland alone would be struggling against the various nasties that came out on All Hallow's Eve. However Malfoy had got his hands on such a prize, he was an utter fool for wasting it on something as trivial as a Hallowe'en feast at Hogwarts. He would have to have a serious talk with the boy soon, and remind him to stop being such a mindless cretin.

He had had just about enough of the shambles that the Slytherin table had become. He didn't want to reprimand his entire house in public, but really, it was getting out of hand. Just as he was about to stand and draw their attention, the activity paused, all at once. Students started to go back to where they'd been sitting, and within half a minute it was as if absolutely nothing had happened.

That was the Slytherin house Snape had worked hard over the years to create. He felt an odd moment of pride, but crushed it quickly. Slytherin hadn't reached its position of strength from its head of house being a sentimental fool.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

There was some kind of extra charm on the toffee that wouldn't let anybody who'd taken a piece touch it again. So once the biggest and fastest of Slytherin had withdrawn, the younger students, and the ones who'd been sitting too far away to see what was going on, could push their way in and get a finger on the remaining block, coming away with their own piece, all of them exactly the same size. There was probably some kind of lesson to that, Daniel mused as he nursed a finger that had been twisted in the rush.

"Go on, eat it!" Pansy urged him. "We're going to go up to the Astronomy Tower tonight and see how much of the grounds we can see!"

"It'll be nighttime," Daniel told her. "Overcast, too," he added after a glance at the ceiling.

She stared at him, then slowly brushed a lock of dark hair out of her eyes. "We'll have to show you how to use it, then," she said primly. "Look, Millie's is starting to work."

Daniel looked, and was astonished to see flickers of pale light swimming all across Millicent's skin. "What - " he said.

"You're such a Muggle," Pansy said, and turned to smile sweetly at a couple of first year boys reaching tentatively over to the rest of the toffee. "Yes, go ahead," she said to them. "Ask Astoria how it works if you don't know, but don't use up too much, okay? We have a plan for later."

Daniel turned to ask Theo what was going on, but his friend was nowhere to be seen.

"Everyone sit back down," Gwen Chalmers said, fairly loudly but perfectly evenly. "The excitement is over."

The table hushed straight away, the first years scrambling back to the other end of the table, glowing toffee clutched tightly in their fists. Theo wandered casually back from where he'd been talking to Lauren Pucey, and within ten seconds everyone was helping themselves calmly to dessert.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

No one from outside Slytherin seemed to have noticed the light show playing across their classmates' skin. It was a bizarre sight, seeing all sixty or so Slytherins gleaming and flashing, and the rest of the hall completely oblivious, just carrying on with the feast. Even when every scrap of dessert was gone and people were getting up to leave, forming a bottleneck at the front doors, no one even looked at them a sidelong glance. Well, more than the usual ones they got just for being Slytherins.

"So what's the deal, then?" Daniel asked Theo once the other houses had all gone their own way and left the Slytherins walking through the dungeons.

"Huh?" Theo asked lazily. "What deal?"

"The bloody light show," Daniel said. "No one will explain it to me."

The first years in front of them stopped dead, forced to by the standstill in front of them. Daniel looked up to see the Baron floating at the front of the group, glaring at them balefully, bloody chest a pearly white compared to the yellowish light they were all emitting. Daniel felt a shudder go through everyone around him.

"You must return to the Great Hall," the Baron intoned, floating slightly higher so that even the students at the back could see him. "Dumbledore requires all the students' presences. Go now."

"What's - " one of the seventh year boys said, but the Baron had drifted back into the wall and out of sight.

There was a moment where everyone was perfectly still, and then as one they turned back the way they'd come, the excited chatter now a worried murmur.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Snape was just about to make his escape from the staff table when a group of students came piling back into the hall, talking nervously among themselves, looking wild-eyed and verging on panic. Gryffindors, the lot of them. Probably forgot the way to their rooms in all the excitement. Weasley was strutting about looking self-important but also genuinely agitated, giving orders left and right, which were of course thoroughly ignored by his witless housemates.

Then the name they were bandying about drifted its way up to him, and he froze, the old dark rage held back for the moment by pure shock. He looked quickly to Lupin to try and catch his reaction. He didn't seem to have heard what was going on, or else he was just displaying exceptional acting skills, exchanging surprised looks and a few words with Flitwick. McGonagall was making her brisk way down to her students. She was soon talking to Weasley, who seemed to have abandoned his pomposity for a kind of earnest dogsbodying, which suited him much better.

He noticed that his wand was in his hand, though he didn't remember drawing it. As he walked down from the staff table, anger starting to rise, the Gryffindors were pushed further into the room by the entrance of the Hufflepuffs, and right on their heels, the Slytherins, looking disgruntled.

Snape moved to the door, finding himself walking alongside Sprout, who gave him a troubled, wary glance but kept her mouth shut. Soon she was amongst her Hufflepuffs. She spread visible calm through them little by little, and soon enough they were moving in an orderly fashion up toward the staff table, looking frightened but resolute. For all of Sprout's foibles, she was an able Head of House and a real _people-person_, whatever that was supposed to mean. She even spared some time for the Ravenclaws as they came in, directing them over to where Flitwick was waiting, hands clasped together in front of him, a distracted frown on his face.

Snape positioned himself at the door, wand still in hand, and, much as it pained him to do so, waited for Dumbledore's instruction.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Seamus was looking green but steady, and had Dean leaning an elbow on his shoulder. Dean's other hand was running through his hair over and over again, while Seamus's arms were folded across his chest. As Daniel approached, they swallowed at the exact same time.

"Black's in the castle," Seamus said, before Daniel could even ask. "He tried to get into Gryffindor."

It took a moment to sink in and even once it had Daniel wasn't sure what to think. "Just now?" he asked. "With you all there?" The man was crazier than he'd thought. If anyone had been hurt …

Seamus shook his head.

"When we got there the Fat Lady was gone," Dean said.

"He'd cut up her portrait something awful," Seamus added. "Peeves says she's gone into hiding."

"Jesus," Dean whispered, gripping his hair tightly now and clenching his jaw.

"I thought we were meant to have security," Daniel said, feeling a little weak at the knees himself. He'd really thought that between them, the teachers would be able to keep Black out of the castle. He didn't have that much faith in Dumbledore, but he'd thought Snape had it in him, and Flitwick as well. McGonagall too, if he was forced to admit it. Things got a lot shakier now they'd turned out to be completely useless.

"Yeah," Seamus said solidly. "That's what I thought."

"You'd better go back to your house," Dean said, standing a little straighter and looking around them anxiously. "People are a bit crazy right now."

Daniel nodded at them and started to walk back to his housemates.

"The teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," came Dumbledore's voice. Daniel snorted. Talk about shutting the door after the horse had bolted. The horse was halfway to Australia by now.

"I am afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here," Dumbledore continued. "I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the head boy and girl in charge."

Daniel wanted to punch him in the face. Black had gotten around all Hogwarts' protective magic, and all extra security measures the staff had thrown up. But yeah, post prefects at the doors to the hall. That'd fox him. He'd run screaming from Weasley and Jackson, too, as soon as he saw their pretty little badges.

"Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately. Send word with one of the ghosts."

Daniel looked around for Snape, and saw him standing seething by the door, wand in hand. Daniel knew who he'd be trying to get in touch with in the event of a _disturbance. _And it wasn't Albus Bloody Dumbledore.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"I want half of each year level near the main entrance," said Ambrose Miller. The prefects moved quietly through the group of Slytherin students, checking that nobody was missing, and making sure nobody was going to keel over.

Daniel didn't see why everyone was making such an enormous fuss. Black had clearly waited until Hallowe'en, when no one would disturb him, and gone in to fetch the rat. Okay, so not everyone knew about the rat, but if the man had wanted to go down the mass-murdering path again, he would have come into the hall.

"The other half near the door by the staff table. Not right at the door, any of you, but close. And stay together. I don't care what happens, we will _stay with our house_."

Gwen Chalmers was talking to Snape. Daniel didn't envy her that. But then, he didn't envy Snape for having to talk to Gwen Chalmers, so it evened out okay.

The mass of Slytherins was splitting roughly in two, but some of the younger students needed help sorting themselves out. Daniel saw Blaise standing hand in hand with Daphne not two feet away from him, and instinctively started to move across to the other group.

"Are you stupid?" someone said from behind him, grabbing him by the arm. "Six and two doesn't look like half and half to me."

It didn't add up to nine, either. He looked around briefly, then turned to whoever had grabbed him. It was Francine Olford the sixth-year prefect, and she was just about to move toward Northbrook, her male counterpart.

"Hey," Daniel called after her. "Where's Millicent?"

Hardly pausing, she half-turned to him, saying, "Adrian and Walczak are on it."

Satisfied the prefects would deal with everything, Daniel turned to give Theo a pleading look across the gap between groups, beckoning him over. His friend shrugged, and shook his head. Northbrook started to direct them down toward the staff table, and Olford pointed Daniel's own group down to the front doors. Daniel looked around to see if anyone he could stand had been put into his half. There was Frobisher, with an arm around the shoulders of both McBurney and Adamson, and there were the Pucey and Vaisey girls, and that was about it.

So Daniel sulked his way into a stupid purple sleeping bag, uncomfortable in his jeans but absolutely _not_ taking them off here.

"Everyone into their sleeping bags!" Weasley bellowed. Hadn't _he _heard of amplifying charms? "Come on now, no more talking! Lights out in ten minutes!"

"Fucking hell," McBurney said. "Let the kids talk it out. They're petrified."

"Who's going to _sleep_, now?" a small voice whispered from a little further away.

"I say ten minutes after the lights are out we light up the whole room," said Burge. "Doesn't look like we'll be getting up to the Astronomy Tower tonight."

"Shhhh," Olford said, and everyone fell into a reluctant silence.

The hall had mostly quietened down, and Daniel was left curled up in his sleeping bag watching the lights flicker over all the Slytherins. Maybe that was why the prefects had set them up at the entrances. If Black came charging into the hall, they could shine a really bright light into his eyes. Brilliant.

Millicent and Jo Chalmers joined them soon, looking a bit embarrassed, but no one said anything. As soon as they had settled down Ambrose, Olford and Adrian Pucey seated themselves between the Slytherins and the door, leaning in so they only had to speak quietly.

"The toffee we got today from Malfoy isn't just a toy," Ambrose said softly. He had barely any light showing on his skin, just a faint overall sheen that made him look kind of demonic. His eyes gleamed, anyway. "It's a traditional treat on Samhain because it has magical warding properties. That's what the light means, it means we're a team and if there's any danger it will make us strong enough together to fight it off. Now, considering the people we have protecting us here, I doubt very much that anything will happen. If there's an emergency though, no one is going to panic. You're going to listen to me, to Olf and to Adrian, and we're going to band together to defend ourselves, and the rest of the school if we have to."

"That means that _nobody _is going to do any stupid nonsense with the light," Olford said. "There are better ways to use our strength than that."

"Anyway, Snape's out on the job," Pucey said. "And so's McGonagall, and Flitwick and the rest of them. Black crosses that lot, he'll end up sprouting feathers, smoldering, upside down with his head in a bucket."

There were some relieved giggles, and a lot of people shifted around where they lay, getting more comfortable. A lot of the tension went out of the air, but Daniel was getting more and more uncomfortable. If Black did make it in to them, and he hurt people, it might be kind of his fault.

And he needed to go to the toilet. A dozen butterbeers followed by a full Hallowe'en feast wasn't the greatest way to start a school-wide sleepover.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He'd _told _them. Told them time and time again what would happen with Lupin on staff. They'd chalked that one up to the old grudge, letting Lupin's history or, rather, his ability to be sorted into Gryffindor, convince them that he wouldn't betray them all. They'd thought the exact same thing about Black, the idiots, but it seemed they weren't capable of learning, even when the lesson was so damnably simple. Dumbledore was even letting the brute join in the search, which was as good as giving Black a broom, an invisibility cloak, a map with an escape route, and a cup of hot cocoa to boot.

Snape snarled his questions at the portraits as he passed them, each one assuring him they had seen nothing and nobody. There were no traces of recent magic in any of the corridors, and no reason to believe Black was still within a hundred miles of the castle. Oh, what Snape wouldn't give to have the man in front of him right now. He made a few angry gestures with his wand. The next few portraits answered his questions very quickly indeed. He could walk by and fix up the scorch marks later.

Dumbledore had assured him the security on the castle was impenetrable, that despite Lupin being on staff there was no way Black would ever be able to force his way into the castle. He shouldn't have been surprised. After the debacle that was Quirinius Quirrell, and the freedom with which the basilisk had roamed the school the year after, it shouldn't have come as a surprise to anyone that Dumbledore's protective measures and the collective legacy of the Founders had just been trounced by an emaciated madman without a wand, and his pet werewolf.

There was, however, absolutely nothing Snape could do or say to make Dumbledore take these things more seriously, and no higher power to which he could appeal. All he could do was protect the children who were his responsibility, and hope his colleagues would do the same. Except maybe McGonagall.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel had way too much energy to go to sleep, even if the whole place was deadly boring and there was no one for him to talk to. He spent what felt like an hour twisting his hand around and watching the light ripple across his skin. Then, about as long again on strengthening his memories, and then when he was finally getting a little sleepy he worked on the Animagus meditation.

He would have guessed it was maybe three or four in the morning when he felt his magic starting to pull and quelled it, as had become habit during his meditation sessions. Then it happened again straight away, and that was strange enough that he waited, trying to figure out what it might be. It wasn't any kind of transfiguration coming from him, and he definitely wasn't trying to cast any spells. Stupidly, he looked around to see where it had come from.

His housemates were starting to glow even brighter, and as they suddenly flared bright something gave a sharp tug on something nameless inside him. In an automatic defensive effort he brought down all his willpower on it, forcing himself into absolute stillness, both physically and magically. He felt something give way, and all at once he felt strangely empty, and cold. His body went dark, and the rest of the light around him faded out with it.

He looked around to see if anyone had noticed anything, like the Slytherin prefects at the door nearby, but without the light from all around him he could barely see two feet away. There was no light from the moon or the stars; the sky was still heavily overcast. Daniel wasn't even sure that the magic on the ceiling went so far as to transmit the sunlight and stuff.

Suddenly exhausted, he rested his head back on his bundled-up jacket and fell asleep without another thought.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Charms the next morning was a muddle of tired students, an exhausted-looking Flitwick, a mass of Black-related theories, and some appalling wandwork. The Gryffindors were already complaining about their new portrait, and Draco was fiercely unhappy that he'd been forced to sleep on the floor, and wanted to make sure everyone knew about it. Half an hour into the lesson Flitwick seemed to give up on whatever he'd had planned, and simply announced that this lesson would be dedicated to revision, and if anyone had any questions now was the time to ask them.

"What was Black doing in the castle?" Goldstein asked.

Before anyone else could speak, Flitwick held up a hand. "Any questions about the coursework, Mr. Goldstein," he said. "Though I hold the spirit of inquiry in high regard, this is a Charms lesson, and I would appreciate it if other questions were kept for a more appropriate time."

Nobody else seemed to have questions after that. No coursework-related questions, anyway. Flitwick sat down heavily behind his desk, took out a quill and started to write. The room was quiet for a moment, then settled into its usual comfortable chatter. Daniel was still kind of mad at Theo for abandoning him the night before, so he'd sat between Seamus and Terry. Seamus had Dean on his other side, and Terry was sitting with Corner as usual, so Daniel dabbled in both conversations, his thoughts always returning to Black, and trying desperately to work out what had been going on.

He needed to talk to Black, basically. It was either talk to him, or just turn him in. Anything else was gutless, and stupid besides. He'd thought he had a kind of deal with the man, but apparently Black would just do what he wanted when he wanted, and put Daniel into an impossible situation. Yeah, he'd get alone after class and call Black's mirror. He'd try a few times, give the man until tonight, and if Black hadn't answered by then he'd find some way to let Snape know about where he was hiding, and his disguise and mission and everything. And hand the mirror over too, he supposed.

Flitwick let them out over fifteen minutes early, probably to give himself a chance to take a nap, or at least a break, before his next class. Daniel headed straight for the nearest boys' bathroom, secured a cubicle against eavesdropping and worked the mirror.

Black's eyes were bloodshot, and barely focussed as his face appeared in the polished glass. He looked dreadful, with hair all over his face and tear tracks dried down his cheeks. Daniel tried to hide his surprise that Black had answered, but it wasn't really necessary. He wasn't sure if the man was seeing anything at all.

"Prongs?" Black said, voice deep but uncertain. "I tried, but … Prongs?"

The man was sozzled. Lord only knew how he'd managed to get his hands on that much booze. "Uh, it's me," Daniel said, not sure how to identify himself when he'd taken care Black would never know his name.

Black ran both hands through his hair. Or tried, anyway. The black mess was so tangled and gnarled his fingers got caught and he had to twist and tug to extract them. Then he made a small noise in his throat and looked down at the ground.

"I guess you didn't get him, huh," Daniel said, somehow not angry any more, or betrayed, or any of that. There was something about the drunken desolation on Black's face that called out to Daniel, something very real. Something that dug way deeper into him than he liked. "I wish I'd known you were going to try something," he added when Black stayed silent.

Black dropped his head even further. "I'll get him for you," he mumbled. "I will. I swear it. I will."

Daniel was torn between playing along for more information and trying to bring Black back to reality so he could see if he was going to be a threat. The thought of Black remembering the conversation afterwards convinced him that trying anything tricky wasn't on the cards.

"It's not Prongs," he said, loud and firm. "Can you even hear me?"

At the word 'Prongs' Black's head jerked up again, and he struggled to focus on the mirror, which made it look like he was staring at Daniel's chin. "Not…" he said.

"Not Prongs," Daniel repeated. "You were in the castle tonight, right?"

"Revenge…"

"_Listen_, would you?," Daniel said. "I'm trying to decide if I should just turn you in right now."

Black's eyes roamed vaguely over the mirror. "But I didn't do it. I _told_ you," he said, then a look of comprehension spread very slowly over his face. "You're … that Slytherin kid," he said.

"Yeah," Daniel said, getting impatient. "And you're the guy who slashed up the Fat Lady last night."

Black winced. "I needed to get in," he said apologetically. "Anniversaries, you know. Seemed right."

It took Daniel a moment to realise what he meant. "I thought you were after the _rat_," he said in genuine horror, though that excuse sounded much less reasonable to him now than it had when Black was convincing him of it. He held the mirror further away from him, like that made any difference.

That was enough. He'd try finding out where Black was right now, and tell Snape. Now he knew Black could get into the castle apparently on a whim, deranged and with a knife, it would be insane not to. Especially now his target was obviously Potter after all. _Anniversaries._ He felt sick.

But … anniversaries. That meant Black had definitely known it was Hallowe'en. So he _had_ known that no one would be in Gryffindor. It wasn't like wizards could set up any kind of booby trap without a wand, so his target wasn't Potter. Taking a knife meant something was going to be destroyed, like a rat. But it could be Potter, if he'd somehow been expecting to be let in without any alarms being raised, so he could lie in wait for them. Get Potter and the rat both.

Black cut into his torturous thought process. "I _am_ after the rat," he mumbled. "If she'd just let me in like I said, this would all be over by now. Am a Gryffindor, after all. She liked me before."

"What would be over?" Daniel asked automatically.

"This fucking nightmare of a day," Black said, voice choked.

Black's face vanished from the mirror, and after staring at himself in it for a few minutes Daniel realised something.

He'd known for a while he was being a bit stupid in sheltering Black. He'd told himself it was for the deal, to become an Animagus. But it obviously wasn't, not anymore. It wasn't how nice Black had been to him in the beginning either, or because he kind of liked the guy sometimes. He liked Draco alright, after all, but trust was out of the question.

He actually genuinely believed that Black wasn't trying to kill Potter. The subject had been carefully avoided between them; Black had never tried to convince him of anything to do with the Dark Lord or Potter. But there it was. Daniel had met Death Eaters, and Black just wasn't what they were like. He wasn't superior and malicious like Malfoy, or calculating and heartless like Nott. He didn't brim with repressed hostility like Crabbe senior, or stare at everyone like they were scientific curiosities like Avery. He'd given Daniel's wand back, helped him with his transfiguration and romped with him in the rain. Death Eaters couldn't romp, surely.

He picked up the mirror slowly and slid it into his bag. It was probably just about time for Defense. He ambled out of the bathroom and towards the classroom, trying to puzzle it all out.


	21. Quidditch

The week wasn't a fun one, not with every second conversation being about Black, and all the others about Quidditch. Daniel got sick of having to alternately pretend to be clueless, so he spent a lot of his free time either in the library pretending to study or finding time to check on Black. He had never pretended to be even slightly tolerant of Quidditch, so when he went to ground in the week before the match, nobody thought anything of it.

It was pretty easy for Daniel to make time for Black at least three times a day. Though neither of them had said anything about their sudden glut of communication, the look of relief on Black's face whenever Daniel activated his mirror spoke volumes. By Friday afternoon, when Daniel had wandered out into the grounds before Runes, Black was cracking Charms jokes and dishing all kinds of dirt on the teachers that were still around from his schooldays. Daniel was getting pretty good at wheedling some tutoring out of him too, despite the weak protests Black put up at helping a Slytherin.

Daniel learned a lot from the way the man talked about the Dark Arts. He'd been careful not to ask for help in Defence until Black had already given him tips in a few other subjects, and by then Black was enjoying showing off almost as much as Draco did, sometimes getting frighteningly unguarded, and brutally honest. He hated the Dark Arts. Despised them, loathed them. He had a morbid kind of fascination with dark creatures, but as soon the talk moved to humans and dark magic, he got that dangerous look in his eyes. Daniel would watch the slow burn, and wonder what would have to happen to a person to make him feel that way, about anything.

By the end of the week he had a theory that suited him. Black had been in love with Potter's wife. It was no secret that the Blacks were inbred, treacherous and stark raving mad, and this Black had inherited all that stuff without it making him quite so thoroughly evil. Black had been obsessed with Lily, and when she married Potter it had sent him over the edge. He'd made an alliance with the Dark Lord, and got himself made Secret Keeper for their hiding place so he could lead the Dark Lord to Potter and the baby they had, and he could have Lily. Or maybe he wanted the kid for his as well. It didn't really matter either way.

The Dark Lord, being as he was a huge git, had just used Black's betrayal to take out the whole family, and probably laughed in the guy's face about it too. The rest of the story went like everyone thought it did. Black's obsession with Harry Potter made way more sense that way, and explained why he wasn't trying to murder the kid. The son of the woman he'd loved, but with another man. The Dark Lord had jack shit to do with it. And that was why Black hated dark magic so much too, since it had killed _Lily_ Potter, and was all connected up with his moment of stupid and teaming up with the Dark Lord.

All that was left was to fit the bloody rat into it somehow. A rat with no connection to Potters, or Blacks, or Dark Lords, or _anything_. Maybe the guy just really liked rats.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Quidditch was bad enough when it was nice out. At least then Daniel could use the time to soak up some sun, and shake off the stillness of the dungeons. But this was just stupid. And worse, people didn't seem to notice how insane the whole thing was. Sure, they were wizards, so they had warming charms, and repelling charms for the worst of the rain, and spelled clothing, but that didn't mean they had be so damned _enthusiastic_ about sitting God knew how many feet up in the air and staring at _nothing_, because the rain was so heavy it blotted everything out.

Maybe he could duck out of the crowd and go back into the castle. No one would notice; the only people who tended to pay much attention to him were Theo and Draco. Draco was wherever Quidditch players went when they weren't playing, and Theo was walking ahead with both Puceys. He could find out who won later. In fact, he'd probably hear about it for a month straight before anyone remembered there were other things in life than sport. He could talk Black into helping him through the next step in the Animagus transformation. He'd been holding out, saying Daniel wasn't ready, but that was a load of shit. His meditation did everything Black said it should, and the man knew it.

There was someone on either side of him then, figures with hands deep in their pockets, and shoulders hunched against the wind.

"Ready to get your butt kicked?" Dean asked from his left, half-shouting against the noise of the wind.

"Ready to get my butt _frozen_," Daniel retorted, surprised that the two of them would dare to associate with a Slytherin on a Quidditch day. Then again, they were Gryffindors. Reckless. "Shouldn't you be off kissing Potter's feet or something?"

"Line's too long," Dean said, grinning. "Seriously, what are you lot thinking? _Warrington_?"

"I don't _care_," Daniel bellowed, so that even in the wind and rain his words came out as a shout. "I don't care, I don't care I _don't care_."

"They always say that," Seamus said. "That way, it hurts less when they lose."

"We're not going to be able to tell who wins in this," Daniel said. "They're all going to have their heads smashed off by Bludgers and the game will never end because all the players will be dead and no one will be able to catch the stupid snitch and we'll all starve to death. Or maybe drown."

"Nah, Harry'll catch it," Dean said dismissively. "Anyway, we have to go find Lavender and Parvati."

"Have fun," Seamus said, and the two of them sped up and vanished into the crowd.

Daniel made his mind up, turned, and jogged back into the castle.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

For the first time that week, Black wasn't answering his mirror. Daniel took a deep breath, and decided against panicking. Just because the castle was practically empty again for the first time since Hallowe'en and until now Black had always been right at the mirror as soon as Daniel had said his name didn't mean that he was trying to get into Gryffindor again.

He could go up there and see for himself, maybe. The more he thought about that, the more he really had to go up. He sighed, tucked his wand up his sleeve, put on a cloak and made his way through the empty common room out to the corridors, and started up to the seventh floor.

Being in the castle during a Quidditch match was like hanging out at school in the summer holidays. Even four floors up, Daniel couldn't shake the feeling he was walking through a dream. His nerves about maybe meeting Black weren't helping. Nor did the portraits, calling out to him that he was missing the match, and that he'd better not be up to anything shady, because they were _watching _him.

He started to walk far louder than usual to try and shake the eerie feeling, but the echoes his footsteps made things worse, and he stopped quickly. Just as he was about to break into a jog to make the trip shorter, his head was filled with ice water, which spread quickly down to his torso and then was gone, replaced by an odd white haze in front of his eyes. It took a few steps for the rest of his body to slow and stop, leaving him staring at the ghostly boots and skirt in front of his face.

He took a few steps back and tried to shake the cold out of his bones. He _hated _it when ghosts did that. This one hadn't even noticed she'd done it, apparently; she was too caught up in a book she was reading. Which was ridiculous, because it was a ghost book, so she'd had plenty of opportunity to read it _before_. Ghosts were dumb.

"Hey," he said, jogging up and to the side of the ghost. "Will you watch where you're going, next time?" His voice sounded far too loud and aggressive in the odd stillness of the castle.

She sank slowly to floor level and turned vague eyes in his direction, blinking slowly. "I beg your pardon?" she said politely.

She was young. Maybe not even twenty, but her eyes were so sad. They were so sad that thinking they were _haunted _didn't strike him as even slightly amusing. It was just the right word.

"Uh," he said, "You went right through me just then." He pointed at the spot a few feet away where it had happened.

"I do apologise," she said, dropping a small curtsey. "I was simply engrossed, I'm sure you understand."

"Not really," Daniel said. He was ready for them to go their separate ways again, but now the ghost's attention had been dragged away from her book, she had fixed it all on him. You couldn't get away from a ghost that wanted to talk to you, as he'd learned with Myrtle, and you sure as hell didn't want to piss one off. "But it's fine. I just think you should look out for people a bit more, is all."

"I was under the impression everyone was out of doors at the match," she said, still in that dreamy, earnest way. "I prefer to take my stroll when it will not break my concentration. The students are so noisy, it gives me quite a headache at times."

"Well I'm sorry to have disturbed you," Daniel said, the mention of Quidditch reminding him of Black, and the reason he was wandering the corridors to begin with.

"Oh, I have been rude!" she exclaimed, raising a hand in a gesture that reeked of elegance. "Forgive me; my name is Eloise Gladstone, and I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I apologise again for my clumsiness earlier."

Daniel hated apologies. They took all the wind out of a bloke's sails. "It's fine," he said again. "It made me a bit jittery. I wouldn't have said anything otherwise."

"Am I overstepping my bounds if I enquire what your business is inside on such an important day?" She started to drift along absently, and since it was in the direction Daniel was going anyway, he walked alongside her.

"I don't like Quidditch," Daniel said. "What are you reading?" He sped up a little, and she effortlessly kept pace.

"My brother's diary," she said, voice tinged with sadness. "It is all I have left of him, yet it fades as the years drift away from me."

Well, that was nice. Daniel decided, not for the first time, that no matter what issues he had left to deal with, when he died he was going all the way. Not a single hesitation, or second thought. Ghosts were such miserable people. "Sorry," Daniel said uselessly. "Maybe I should just go on upstairs and you can go back to your book."

"I don't mean to distress you," she said mournfully. "I find it difficult to remain mindful that my preoccupations are not of interest to those still breathing. Especially those so young. I can almost remember what it is to be young. Almost … " she stared wistfully out in front of them, holding her book one-handed to her chest.

"I'm not distressed," Daniel lied firmly. "It just seems that thinking about this stuff disturbs you, so I thought I'd nick off."

"No, indeed!" she said fervently. "Contact with the living awakens echoes of feelings that I am in danger of losing. To remember Gerard's life can only bring forth the memories I must recapture in order to demystify his death."

Okay, that was just about enough. "You haven't seen Sirius Black around here, have you?" he asked. "It's just, he might come in and murder me if I'm not careful, so maybe I - "

"Hmmm?" she said, again taking a moment to let her attention focus back on him. "Sirius Black? No, I haven't seen him since he commandeered my place of refuge for his … affairs. A reckless boy, that one."

"When was that?" Daniel asked. "In the past month?"

"Dear lord, no," she said with a small, gentle smile. "He was a schoolboy then, so full of life I could almost feel it emanating from him. He offered to help me, the darling, and badgered me for several weeks to let him. I could not allow it, and in the end I think he grew weary of his contact with the dead."

Daniel tried to imagine Black his age, having this same conversation with the same young, pretty woman, twenty years in the past. He wondered how many others she'd spoken to, and what they'd been like. If she'd ever …

"Did you ever meet anyone with the last name Seaver?" he asked, keeping his mind steady with a casual effort. It barely took effort any more.

"No," she said, shaking her head slowly. "Not that I recall. Only the truly memorable experiences linger so long in the memory. Even they fade over time."

"Binns does a pretty good job remembering stuff," Daniel said, trying to stop imagining what his birth parents had been like at school. He'd decided he didn't _like _them, after all, not after all the trouble they'd caused him. It was Rick, and Penny, who were his real parents. Seavers just created him, and jumped ship.

"He remembers that which he knew in his lifetime," the ghost said. "Even in those particulars, the nuances fade. Perhaps his constant contact with the young and hearty gives him the opportunity to remain lucid, but time will always take its toll. If not in one way, then in others."

"But you avoid us," Daniel said, interested despite himself. "And why wouldn't you let Black help you, if being around lively people is so good for you, and he was all full of life and everything?"

He started up the staircase to the fifth floor, and the ghost floated up beside him on a smooth diagonal. "Too much life is overwhelming," she said distantly. "And distressing, serving as a reminder of that which I have lost. Some thrive on such bedlam, but most accept that an entirely vicarious existence is ultimately the least satisfying. As for young Sirius, it is not the place of a ghost to burden the living. I have eternity on this earth to discover the truth; I will not rob a young man of one instant his youth to fill a hole which, even once filled, is paltry appeasement, and that only to me."

She talked like Snape, Daniel realised, but there wasn't a hint of haughtiness about her, and he wasn't having any trouble following what she was saying. He could swear sometimes Snape used big words just because he knew Daniel wouldn't understand them. This ghost talked that way like it was as natural as breathing. Well, as breathing had been. When she was alive.

Having learned her attitude to wasting the time of the living, Daniel felt it was safe to do the polite thing. "I don't suppose you'll let me help you, will you?" he said.

"Indeed not," she said. "In fact, I shall take my leave of you now. It is self-indulgent of me to have remained in conversation so long."

"No, it's fine," Daniel said. "Nice talking to you."

She smiled, curtseyed again, and sank quickly through the floor, leaving Daniel alone on the fifth floor. He set off to the next set of stairs, the castle not feeling quite so weird any more.

On the sixth floor he was accosted by a particularly loud portrait, of a tall, skeletally-thin man with a booming voice.

"Young man!" he bellowed. "Stop where you are."

Daniel gave it an irritated look and kept walking.

"Slytherin!" he shouted, even louder than before. "If you get up to any nonsense, I'll turn you in to Dumbledore, you remember that! We'll tolerate no interlopers up here, especially not your kind."

"You don't own the fucking castle," Daniel told the man, continuing to walk. "I'll go where I like, and you can keep your big mouth shut. Talking about security, when Black walked past you happy as Larry only a month ago. I'll report _you _to Dumbledore for being such a fucking hypocrite in a minute."

"HOW DARE Y — "

Daniel walked on, straight past the stairway up to the seventh floor, laughing as the portrait continued to holler along after him. He wouldn't risk going up to Gryffindor though, not now that he'd made a scene like that. If anything _did _go down up there, he wasn't going to be at the scene. Black was fine anyway, Daniel was keeping him on the level. And even if something did go wrong, there wasn't really anything Daniel could do about it. He'd been stupid to think he should go up in the first place.

He made his way quickly back down to the main floor, stopped by the kitchens to get a warm snack, and wandered back down into the Slytherin common room, wondering how long the Quidditch would take this time. In this weather, it would be a miracle if anyone caught the snitch ever, so he set himself up right by the fire, took out Potions and Charms homework, and stared at it, completely unable to decide which one was the more bearable.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The common room would probably be more bearable if Slytherin had lost. Generally speaking, a miserable Draco was much easier to get on with than a euphoric one. He was bad loser, but he was a far worse winner. Daniel found a fairly distant corner table and sat with Theo, who was looking very satisfied, but seemed happy to just soak up the atmosphere in silence.

The team was sitting on the middle table, actually on top of it, still in their uniforms but with various hats and cloaks draped over them, drinking in the admiration from all around them. It didn't take long for them to break into a detailed retelling of the match. This was useful, since it didn't seem the spectators had seen much of it. Daniel ignored their gloating, trying to think of harmless reasons why Black might not have been able to answer his mirror. He did _not_ think about the miserable "life" ghosts seemed to lead, because that was just way too depressing. But what Eloise had said about meeting Black had caught his imagination, and was edging him into dwelling onto the monumental fall the man had taken. From full of life, even to a ghost, to convict, wasting away physically, and barely holding on mentally.

He tried to push it out of his mind, and was so desperate to do so he started to pay attention to the Quidditch talk.

"That triangle cutter was stunning," Derrick said loudly. "She didn't see it coming for a second."

"They didn't think we could pull it off, the squibs," Montague said, and slapped the table enthusiastically.

"And then very next play Malfoy came out from behind the goals on the other side, had Wood rolling out - " That was Warrington, maybe. Or Bole.

"And it took him two goals to work out which was the middle post!"

"Bole's bludger helped."

"Hah, yeah. Sent him spinning like a leaf."

"That'll teach those ginger nobs to try so hard putting Malfoy down."

"Which they came nowhere near doing."

"How far away were they then? A hundred feet?"

"You'd think between two of them they'd be able to keep an eye on one player."

"It's like they thought maybe Potter wasn't their great saviour after all."

"Well, he isn't." That was Draco, speaking up for the first time. "He's a natural, sure, but so was Edric Blaxton, and look what happened to him. Two seasons with the Tornadoes, and out on his rear."

Daniel looked up, frowning. That snide, petulant tone wasn't what he'd expected from a victorious Draco. That was how he sounded when things _didn't_ go his way.

Yeah. Draco was looking very, very unhappy. His hair was flattened by the rain; he hadn't bothered to fix it. The silver cape he had draped around his shoulders was crooked; he hadn't straightened it. Daniel looked at Theo curiously, and Theo just jerked his head at the team.

"Well, Blaxton was hardly fighting off hordes of Dementors at the same time," Bletchley said. "Not quite the same."

"He didn't _fight them off_," Draco snapped.

Flint snorted. "Weak little shit," he said. "Should have waited to see if he bounced."

The whole room laughed, and the team went back to reliving their glorious victory. Draco stayed sitting with them, but didn't join in.

"Potter fell?" Daniel asked Theo, trying not to suspect Black. Really, really trying.

"Yeah. Dementors again," Theo said. "Just as he was starting to play for the snitch. Dead set even with Draco, and then he was gone."

Daniel stared at him sceptically. "Dementors," he said. "At Quidditch. Like that would happen."

Theo shrugged. "It did," he said. "Draco and Potter copped it from them, then the dumb old bore sent them packing."

"Let me guess," Daniel said, sitting back and sighing. "Everyone was sooking over Potter and nobody noticed Draco's brilliance in catching the snitch."

"Yeah," Theo said, sitting back as well. "No one would have seen it anyway; nobody could see anything. But any catch in these conditions is pretty damn impressive. Draco's really proud of it, I think."

"Good for him," Daniel said. "I think I'll go downstairs."

"Yeah, show him you don't care and make him more miserable, that's a great idea," Theo said, rolling his eyes.

"Oh come on, he knows I hate Quidditch," Daniel said, getting up. "I'm not staying up here getting bored to tears for the sake of his precious feelings."

"Huh," Theo said, as if that was hugely interesting. "That's nice of you."

Daniel scowled at him. "Funny how you suddenly care about his stupid pride," he said. "Time was, you'd tell me exactly what to do to piss him off."

Theo just looked at him, calm and ever so slightly smug.

"Oh, sod off," Daniel said, and stalked off downstairs.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He closed his curtains around him, cut off the sound, and pulled the mirror out.

He sat perfectly still for a minute or so, then took a deep breath. "Sirius Black," he said. He didn't know what he'd do if there was still no answer. He'd already failed at least twice to decide to turn Black in when he should have. He didn't know if he could keep it up.

"Hey," Black said, sounding perfectly relaxed. "Enjoy the Quidditch?"

That was just about all Daniel could take.

"No," he said sharply. "I was actually wandering around the castle, being chilled out by ghosts and shouted at by portraits, wondering if you were trying to get into Gryffindor Tower again, since last time the castle was completely empty you were going psycho with a knife. And you weren't answering the mirror. And I hate Quidditch anyway, even when it isn't in the freezing rain, so the answer to your question is no. No, no and no."

"Oh," Black said, sounding bemused and kind of stupid. "I thought you'd be at the match."

With the mix of relief and frustration he was feeling, Daniel just couldn't be bothered going into any of it. "I wanted you to talk me through the books I need to get from the list you gave me," he said, making himself relax and setting the mirror up against his pillow. He fished in his pocket for the piece of parchment. "I'm as good at that meditation as I need to be."

"Right," Black's face jerked about as he set the mirror down on the ground like usual, and dropped to sit by the wall of the cave thing he seemed to live in. "What order did I put them in there?"

"The order I needed them, you said," Daniel said. "There's a group of three up the top, but one of them's restricted."

"Yeah, the Scawen," Black said. "We just got - I told Wembley I needed it for the chapter on the history of druidic transfiguration. You're doing Runes, right?"

"Yeah," Daniel said. "But even if I convince Babbling she'll want to talk to me about it and everything, and I don't want to do a whole lot of pointless reading just to get to one book."

"You want to be an Animagus," Black said, like it was automatically worth any sacrifice.

Which it kind of was, Daniel thought after a moment. "Okay," he said. "Good point."

"Say none of the other books you could find explained well enough why druidic magic was seen as impure by the Normans," Black said, eyes distant. "And how … how that contributes to today's attitude toward runic magic. I don't know this Babbling's soft spot, but I'm sure _you_ do."

_Slytherin._ Daniel practically saw the word on Black's lips. Hypocrite. "I'll think about it, I guess," he said.

"And while you read that one, talk it over with me," Black said. "It's pretty dense, theoretical, academic. Drove us crazy, and you have to read quite a lot of it to understand the important parts."

"Can't you just teach me?" Daniel said, heart sinking. "You seem to remember it all pretty well."

Black shook his head. "You have to learn it yourself," he said. "Trust me, this isn't something other people can do for you. I'll help, but help can only go so far."

Daniel sighed. "Fine. What about this Trivialities of Transfiguration one? Sounds like a crank to me."

Black let out his sudden, dog-like laugh. "That's got some real beauties," he said. "I wish we'd realised how useful it could be much earlier than we did. Best one of all though, is five hundred and ninety-something. Two, or three. Absolute classic."

Daniel heard the door to the dormitory open and close softly. "Someone's here," he said. "I'll get the books, talk to you soon. If you're not going to be there, for Christ's sake let me know first."

Black rolled his eyes and nodded. "Yes, _father_," he said, and the mirror faded back to normal.

"Hey, Daniel?"

Daniel shoved the mirror under his pillow and opened his curtains.

"What?" he said, absolutely not in the mood to talk to anyone really, and especially not Draco.

Draco sat on the bed. "I heard you didn't come to the match," he said, combing his fingers through his hair absently.

Daniel shifted away, trying to be subtle but probably failing. "Yeah," he said. "Seemed kind of pointless."

Draco huffed. "The _point_ is solidarity," he said.

With Draco sitting on his bed, there wasn't really anywhere to go. "If you're miffed that I, just like all the people who actually went, didn't see you outfly Potter and catch the snitch, you're wasting your time complaining," he said, scooting back against his pillow. "It's very impressive I'm sure, but not that interesting. Well done."

Draco opened his mouth, but closed it again without saying anything. Then he opened it again. "Are you even glad we won?"

The door opened, and Draco's head whirled around in surprise. "I _said_ - " he started, before falling quiet.

"Sorry to interrupt," Blaise said, closing the door behind him. "But you know, Crabbe and Goyle don't have the right to stop me coming into my own room, as they were smart enough to recognise. Eventually."

Draco stood up and stalked across to the door. He turned when he reached it, and stared coolly at Blaise. "You should try making an effort not to alienate those who have sympathy for you in the first place," he said. "One day, you might need something from someone in a higher position than you, and I'd hate to see you have to beg."

He went out the door, and Daniel couldn't help but grin at the look on Blaise's face. "Cheers," he said. "Excellent timing."

Blaise's forehead wrinkled. Daniel closed the curtains around himself again, breathed deeply, and thought of home.


	22. Progress?

He probably hadn't seen the lot of them, since he didn't spend _all_ his time with Draco, but Daniel counted thirty-six Potter Falls Off His Broom impressions in the next week, and at least a dozen Wood Cannot Find The Goalposts, and a few of the completely invented Weasley Twins Fly Into Each Other, with Crabbe and Goyle variously recruited for one or both of the roles. Draco's unhappiness with the way the match had turned out was quite clearly to be kept in-house. That was fine with Daniel, since Draco's enthusiasm for pissing off Gryffindors was overriding anything else he might have on his mind.

For the next couple of weeks in Runes Daniel started to show a marked interest in the widely-held attitudes towards runic magic, and the historical reasons behind them. That inspired a couple of unexpectedly anti-French speeches from McMillan, vigorously rebutted by Draco and his mind-slaves Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy. Soon, Terry and Corner couldn't go ten minutes of class without offhanded references to Saxon barbarians or craven Normans and starting the whole thing up over again.

That made it pretty easy for Daniel to go to Babbling and say maybe it would be easier for him to just read up on the subject since it was so distracting to the class, and there was a book he'd heard had a couple of chapters that set it out really well, with an overview of old British magic and why it was looked down on. The book was mostly about transfiguration, but he hadn't been able to find it looking in the library.

She just told him to ask Pince, of course, but that was the groundwork set. After his next class, on Friday, he told her it was in the restricted section, and he'd need a signature, but he had to go now to prepare for his next class. He'd apparently done just enough to soften her up beforehand, because she looked kind of dubiously at the title, thought for a moment, then nodded at him and signed the paper. He dashed out, and straight off to the library to pick it up. It was pretty busy, being a Friday afternoon and all, but he got enough of Pince's time to get her to fetch the book for him with enough time for him to get to Muggle Studies on time.

Getting the book so easily put him in such a good mood that he spent the whole of Muggle Studies happily contradicting everything he could that Granger said about everything. Her own mood didn't seem so great, and when her voice started to get shrill Theo started to jab him in the ribs every time he opened his mouth. To avoid either a full-scale breakdown from Granger or a scuffle between Theo and Daniel, Burbage wisely declared the conversation closed, and didn't allow anyone to interrupt her mini-lecture on Muggle entertainment.

Despite giving the impression that television was all in real time, and computers were only used to store books and make graphs, it wasn't too bad. Daniel took comfort in the fact that Granger was far more distressed by the goofs than he was, and kept his mouth shut without too much trouble.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

There was even more Quidditch, of course. Ravenclaw absolutely pantsed Hufflepuff while Daniel spent the afternoon trying to get a feel for the separation of core and outer transfiguration. According to Black, it was much easier to feel the difference on living subjects but much harder to get the magic done, so Daniel spent about half an hour trying out the exploratory spells in the book on Khan, before moving onto bits and pieces like parchment and socks. By the time people were back in the Slytherin rooms Daniel had a massive headache. Just working on instinct like he usually did in transfiguration simply wasn't an option here, and too much thinking tended to make his brain hurt.

He let his roommates' chatter about Ravenclaw's huge improvement and Hufflepuff's surprisingly sluggish start to the season wash over him, waving his wand at his astronomy textbook and wondering if anyone had ever invented a spell to send information right into people's brains from books.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Snape sat in his office, going over impossibly convoluted and dense fifth-year essays. Funny, how students in their O.W.L. year seemed to think that the more long words and elaborate sentence structures they forced into their work, the more intelligent it made them sound. It made them sound like ignorant, pompous twits for the most part, even the ones whom Snape knew understood what they were talking about.

Then there were the Weasleys, who when they bothered to hand in their essays, demonstrated a near-flawless understanding of the topics at hand, concealed in an unholy mess of cryptic references, blatant inventions and offensive language. A lot of the time they submitted only one piece of work, signed Fred and George Weasley. That made things very easy for their teachers, who had no choice but to give it a fail mark.

Unfortunately, this time they had handed in two distinctly different essays, and Snape knew they would be nuisances to mark. He had set them aside in favour of the more straightforward ones, intending to work his way up to them in time.

The knock on his office door was slow and reluctant. A student, most likely. "Enter," he said, and dropped his eyes to the essay he was marking, looking busy. He gave no indication he could see it was Livingstone, just scratched out the words 'emollsion' and 'aplication' and delivered some choice remarks about Gillian Zuch's work ethic and attention span.

The boy approached his desk with a kind of doomed determination, hands in his obnoxious Muggle trousers and head hanging forwards. His face was not hidden by a curtain of hair as it used to be, so when Snape looked up at him he saw quite clearly that he was mildly distressed, but trying to hide it.

"Yes?" he said tersely, hoping Livingstone didn't have any more world-shattering revelations to lay on his shoulders.

"I'm staying here over Christmas," the boy said, shifting his shoulders a little.

There was a moment's silence, in which Snape tried to think how that might make sense. Livingstone turned to leave, snapping Snape out of his thoughts. "Stay," he said, and Livingstone's eyes narrowed a little.

"I have to do my Runes homework," the boy said, edging toward the door.

"Stay," Snape repeated, and scanned another couple of paragraphs for spelling errors. He found nine, and reflected that perhaps it wasn't putting him in the ideal frame of mind to speak to Livingstone. "You have never stayed here in a holiday before," he stated, putting down his quill.

"I know," Livingstone said curtly. "But I am now."

He'd apparently been giving the boy a little too much leeway recently. His attitude was unacceptably brazen. Snape caught his eyes, and waited.

There was a slight angry twitch, but soon enough Livingstone sighed and responded somewhat more appropriately. "I am now. Sir."

"You are required to give me a reason," Snape told him.

"No guardians in the country," Livingstone said flatly. "I'd rather stay here than fly to Chicago and back."

There was some tension around the boy's eyes, and one of his feet was jiggling slightly. "I see," Snape said. "At the end of the week you and any other Slytherin student remaining here over the break will be informed of the rules governing your stay. Get on with your Runes."

To Livingstone's credit, he didn't bolt straight for the door, as he obviously wished to. He nodded, glanced over at the piles of parchment on Snape's desk, turned slowly and walked back to the door.

The essays were waiting, to be returned tomorrow, and the first steps of the brewing of the antidotes for Wednesday's seventh-year class.

"Livingstone," Snape called, dreading the conversation that might result from the summons.

"Yeah?" the boy said blithely, having apparently regained some poise. He turned back to Snape, just in front of the door.

"There have been no complications?"

"Nope," he said easily. "Whatever you did, it worked a treat. Magic's strong, no complaints here."

There was something off about that, as well, but if the boy was going to be at Hogwarts through Christmas, there would be plenty of time for Snape to check up on him when it wouldn't throw his schedule off so badly. "I am glad to hear it," he said, and gestured to the door.

Livingstone stepped quietly out, and Snape returned his attention to the essay. _Prosedur_, indeed. And _corect_. Even with a faulty or hexed quill, there was no excuse to not check the work over afterwards. For all that the girl was a Hufflepuff, she had never impressed Snape with her work ethic.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The closer it came to Christmas, the less Daniel enjoyed Muggle Studies. It was usually a laugh, and an absolute piece of cake coursework wise, but it was starting to make him seriously homesick. They were doing sport at the moment, riding on the wave of Quidditch fever, and the endless talk of football and its similarities to Quidditch was too much of a reminder of what he'd be missing stuck in Hogwarts. People gave him weird looks when Granger knew more about football than he did, rattling on gaily about _Brighton and Hove Albion Football Club_, and the noble resignation of their _manager_ when he couldn't lead the team back up to _Division One_, and her very favourite player _Stefan Iovan_, and the _famous _match against _Manchester United, _and the wretchedness of their rivals _Crystal Palace Football Club_, whatever the hell that was.

It made him sick. All he could come up with when they all looked to him was that he supported Swansea City, the manager was Scottish and the goalie was Roger Freestone. And Granger _agreed _with him. Was there actually nothing that Granger didn't know absolutely everything about? He considered changing the subject to cricket, or rugby, but she probably knew everything there was no know about those, as well. As well as competitive lawn bowls, and ice hockey, and the bloody high jump.

So Muggle Studies was putting him in a bad mood, which gradually seeped out into his other classes. Since he didn't actually want to be the gloomiest student in the year, he had to try and pull himself out of it.

There were a few things he was getting good at using as distractions. First thing was pissing people off: Draco, Blaise, Pansy, Seamus, and most of all, Granger. Granger copped the worst of it, being by far the easiest task during Muggle Studies classes themselves, when his mood was at its worst. Seamus was pretty safe to hassle, because Dean was always there to calm him down before he snapped. Theo often pulled him back from bugging Slytherins too much, so he tried getting at Corner for a while. The problem with that was that Corner gave as good as he got, and Terry was always watching the exchanges, and he wouldn't forget a thing he could keep and use against Daniel later.

He took to idly probing at objects to see if he could separate the core from the rest, not actually trying any transfiguration, but constantly testing. It was an uncomfortable process, discovering breaks and weaknesses in things where he least expected them. The problem with that pastime as a distraction was that it was so closely connected to Black. It drew him into too many other unsettling thoughts.

The picture the ghost had painted of Black as a boy was bugging him, because whenever they talked through the mirrors, Daniel could see glimpses that backed it up. Before, he'd been happy enough trying to keep Black sane, and take advantage of his magic education. Now he found himself dropping in questions about Black's time at school, and making jokes, cheering him up, trying to see a young man 'full of life' in his mirror, rather than a wasted away Azkaban escapee.

It was just too much to think about, and he was hopelessly distracted as the term drew gradually to a close. When on the last Tuesday of term he got disapproving comments from McGonagall, Babbling, Flitwick and Lupin, he decided that since he had a whole holiday to wallow in gloomy thoughts, he'd pull his finger out for the last three days, and stop being such a sook.

That night after lights-out he decided to grab every thought about Black, about the ghost, and about home, and just put them away. Before he'd fixed the fainting problem he'd avoided thinking about his birth parents, and there was no reason he couldn't do the same with all this stuff. He shoved it away, and let his mind wander to tomorrow's Potions class.

All at once, he was seeing Black, hearing the ghost's soft voice, and wishing he could go home. He supposed blocking out everything he'd been thinking about for days on end wasn't quite so easy as blocking out things he hardly knew anyway. It would probably be better to try just one, too. The ghost was the most recent one, so he tried just that, more cautiously than before. Slower. It wasn't too bad, though he could feel it hovering around all his other thoughts. With practice, he should get the hang of it, but he didn't dare try adding another one.

Since he was resigned to the subject, he talked to Black for a while. They were going through Gurn's bloody Fifth Law, which he had to fully understand before he tried genuine core-only or core-less transfiguration. It really did him in, all the categorisations, and variations, and exceptions. Black was remarkably patient, considering how changeable his moods usually were. They got through three chapters of the book they were using before Daniel's brain dissolved completely.

"Blaaargh," he said, rolling over onto his back and tilting his head to look upside down at the mirror set on his pillow. It hurt his eyes to look so far up and across, so he closed them.

"You okay?" Black said, like he did every time Daniel ran out of energy. He maybe sounded a little more genuine this time, but still not very.

"Brain hurts," Daniel said. "How the hell did _you_ dothis?"

"I didn't try it alone, for one thing," Black said. "But, I mean … you're looking a little on the melancholy side."

Daniel rolled over and glared at him suspiciously. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"You look like you did when we first met," Black said, not backing off an inch. "I could help then, but not really now."

"You said you did all that to cheer _yourself_ up," Daniel said, not ready to take counselling from a fugitive mass-murderer. He wasn't _that _desperate.

"Oh, I did," Black said frankly. "But you've put in a lot of effort here, and all I'm doing for you is giving you homework. I don't know if you'll be able to transform in the end. You could be just wasting your time."

"Oh, _right_," Daniel said. "You feel guilty because you're holding up your end of the bargain we made and I haven't done shit on my side."

"Don't be stupid," Black said intently. "I asked you to do something you can't do, and I wasn't in my right mind. You, on the other hand, are doing something I never asked for, and had no idea I needed. I owe you, no two ways about it."

"Something I can't do?" Daniel said, deciding to be insulted instead of grateful or, even worse, touched. "Who says I can't do it?"

Black laughed, and Daniel jumped. Happened every single bloody time. "I do. I'm happy to let that one slide. If it's something needs doing, I'll do it myself. You were absolutely right. A thirteen-year-old kid, risking himself for me? Not my proudest moment."

"I _can_ do it," Daniel said. "I told you some of the things I was doing, I'm just being careful. I haven't forgotten."

"Then there's no reason to feel guilty," Black said easily. "We're doing preliminaries on both sides. You're giving me a lot of your time outside learning Animagus, I want to do something for you, if I can."

"Gryffindors," Daniel said, dropping his face into the mattress.

"Maybe if you lost some of that insufferable Slytherin detachment, we could work things out better," Black said, voice a little on edge.

"Maybe if you weren't such a noble Gryffindor idiot you'd be able to get what you wanted without making things all complicated," Daniel retorted, lifting his head again.

"Maybe if you were a proper Slytherin, you'd take what I was offering, since I'm not asking anything extra from you." Black's eyes were smiling, but he was holding it back from the rest of his face. Mostly.

Daniel stopped his automatic response in shock. How had he and Black ended up at a point where they could do this? He stared at Black, who was watching him curiously now, looking less sure of himself.

He was _not _friends with Sirius Black. That would be … no. He'd get the rat, give it up, Black would run off to Iceland or Namibia or whatever, and that would be that. He wasn't _friends_ with lunatics, least of all murdering Gryffindor ones.

"I'll get the rat," he said weakly, and lay the mirror down flat on the bed, Black-side _down_.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

It didn't take long to come up with the plan. That was probably because it wasn't a very good plan, but it was the best he could come up with in a couple of days. He decided to take a leaf out of Black's book, and preparing to take advantage of the mostly-empty castle during Sunday's Hogsmeade visit. He'd have plenty of chances to visit later, and he wanted to get this thing over with as soon as possible. He didn't want to have to wait through the holidays.

On Friday, during History, Terry distracted Seamus and Dean as arranged, with the claim that Ravenclaw would beat Gryffindor for the Quidditch cup by at least two hundred points. Once they were caught up in the argument Daniel cast the first part of the locus charm on Dean's history textbook, covering the move by swiping his quill as well.

They didn't notice that, either, so Daniel transfigured it into a roll of parchment, set it back down where it had been, and zoned out.

"Hey," Theo said, nudging him from the other side. "You doing anything particular tomorrow?"

"Nope," Daniel said, sighing to think of the long, boring holidays ahead of him. Theo had decided he'd go home, despite the unhappy parents he'd find there, and when Daniel had been summoned to learn the _rules _for the holidays, he'd been the only one there. It wasn't surprising kids didn't want to hang out at the castle with Black around, but being the only one in the whole house was pretty miserable.

"The Puceys have arranged for Slytherin to have the pitch in the afternoon, for games and stuff," Theo said, smiling a little.

It irritated Daniel, like almost everything did at the moment. "Fine," he said. "Good."

"It's not Quidditch," Theo said. "The team aren't even allowed to fly. It's just for messing around, end of term stuff."

Daniel shrugged. "Too bad if it snows," he said.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

It did snow, to Daniel's guilty delight. The activities afternoon or whatever it was going to be was cancelled, and instead everyone hung out in the common room. Some made an effort to do some homework, some spent hours talking about what they'd be doing over the holidays.

Daniel spent most of the day sitting with Theo, going over the Muggle Studies stuff he still had on his mind, and amusing himself by trying to pick what jobs the people in the room would have in the real world.

Draco came over a few times from where he was entertaining his clique. He didn't say much though, and left kind of abruptly each time. Theo behaved surprisingly well until the third time, when he asked Draco sweetly if he was planning to visit Madame Puddifoot's on this visit.

"No," Draco said icily. "I'd sooner die than step foot in a place like that."

"Oh," Theo said, not looking discouraged. "I thought maybe — "

"Is there a plan for tomorrow, then?" Daniel interrupted. "We didn't see Zonko's last time, or the Shrieking Shack either."

Bizarrely, _that _was when Draco flushed a little. "I don't know," he said casually. "Don't get too excited about the Shrieking Shack though, it's a bit of a tourist trap these days."

"They said most haunted building in Britain," Daniel said. "Boring ghosts, is it?"

"No ghosts, more like," Theo said. "Dead boring."

Daniel rolled his eyes at the pun, but Draco didn't seem to notice.

"Father says it was inhabited by some fairly wild spirits while he was at Hogwarts," he said. Like usual, the mention of his _esteemed _father brought an ugly, affected tone to his voice. "Back then, the villagers really didn't like to go near it. The more they promote it, the more it's obvious the place is past its best."

"Zonko's, then?" Daniel said. "Is it always going to be that crowded?"

"I doubt it," Draco said, immediately sounding like himself again. "I could show you around there, I got a good look at Samhain."

"I can actually — " Daniel began, before Theo nudged him and interrupted.

"I'm going to go talk to Pucey," he said, and vanished.

Daniel could have kicked him. It was all very well to let Draco show him around Hogsmeade a bit, but the fact was he wasn't planning to _go _tomorrow. At all.

But then, he couldn't let anyone know that. "Okay," he said. Straight away, he felt like maybe he should have put more thought into it.

"Cool," Draco said. "Is there anywhere else you didn't get to?"

Daniel shrugged. "We didn't really go into Honeydukes either," he said. "It was busy as well."

"Where _did _you go, then?" Draco asked, bemused. "Did you spent all the time before we met up in Dervish and Banges? Dervish and Banges, and the Three Broomsticks, and that's it?"

"It was fine," Daniel said. "Better than fighting our way through screaming hordes to catch a glimpse of some fudge, or a fucking spinning top."

"Well," Draco said. "I'll show you the best places tomorrow, then."

"Okay, then," Daniel said, unable to look him quite in the eye. "But if it's not as fun as Hallowe'en, I'll blame you."

Draco smiled a sly smile. "It will be," he said. "I assure you."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel stuck his hands in his jeans pockets, then his jacket pockets, and sighed loudly. "I didn't bring my money," he announced to the world. "I'll be right back, don't let them set off without me."

Theo had started to say something, but Daniel was out of earshot quickly, pounding up staircase after staircase, then roaming the seventh floor until he found a portrait with a knight with a fat horse, just as Dean had described. He walked past it casually, ignoring the, "Ho, brigand!" it sent at him.

He'd give it ten minutes, and if no one came out of the Gryffindor rooms he'd have to try bluffing his way past Sir Cadogan. Shouldn't be too hard, considering what he'd heard about the brainpower of the little twerp.

A first-year came out a few minutes later. Perfect.

"Hey!" Daniel called, jogging up to the portrait. "Hold the door, I'm late for Hogsmeade!"

The little dark-haired boy did as he was told, and Daniel breezed past him. "Cheers," he said, and the portrait swung closed behind him.

That was way too easy. Daniel shrugged, and cast the second part of the locus charm, just hoping Dean had left his books in his dormitory. Otherwise, he'd have a lot of searching to do. His wand tugged him toward the stairs, and he followed it through the empty common room. He passed another first-year on the stairs, and by that stage adrenaline was ruling the day. He gave her a wide smile and said, "Forgot my money."

The spell let him effortlessly to a door standing ajar at the top of far more stairs than Daniel had really felt like climbing. But here he was, and he just hoped Weasley didn't take his rat with him to Hogsmeade, because that would really screw the whole thing up.

He pushed the door open, walked in and closed it behind him.

The rat was right there, on one of the beds, looking old and decrepit. It had huge bald patches on its flanks, and even from the other side of the room Daniel could see its tiny little ribs rising and falling. He closed the door quietly behind him, and checked to make sure the windows were closed and there were no other ways out of the room. He ended the locus charm, setting his wand down on the nearest bed and walking slowly across to the bed with the rat on it. It darted under the pillow as he approached.

"Hey, Scabbers," he said, voice low and soothing. "Stay cool, man, it's all good out here. I know you don't have much hope of being a smart rat, stuck with Gryffindors all your life, and Weasleys at that, but I'd rather pick you up and take you with me quietly than have to trap you, or curse you or something. So when I lift the pillow, you're going to stay where you are, let me pick you up, and we'll go downstairs nice and peaceful, right? You'll be fine with me."

He felt kind of low lying to it but hell, it was just a rat. Not like it understood a word he was saying.

He readied his right hand, and lifted the pillow slowly with his left, ready to pounce at any sudden movement. There was just the rat though, huddled and shivering. It was missing a toe, and this close Daniel could see little scars all over its body.

"Christ, don't they feed you?" Daniel said, almost afraid to touch the thing in case it fell apart in his hands. "At least I brought seeds, huh?" He put both hands carefully around the rat to pick it up, then let it stand on one hand and rest against his chest while he fished in his pocket for the sunflower seeds he'd picked up from the kitchen.

It was still quivering, and he could feel its heart beating up a storm. He held his free hand out flat with a small pile of seeds. The rat's nose twitched, but if anything it started to shake harder, and backed up against his chest. Daniel was starting to feel slightly ill. Whatever Black wanted with this pathetic little excuse for an animal, it probably wouldn't be pretty. And the thing was so damn helpless.

He ran two careful fingers over its spine, his own hand trembling slightly, like it was catching or something. "Sorry, Scabbers," he said. "But it's kind of like putting you out of your misery, isn't it? I mean, you're sick, and old, and left all alone up here all the time. That's no life for a rat, is it?"

He let the little pile of seeds slide into his jacket pocket, and covered the rat's whole body with his hand, thinking maybe it was more cold than scared, anyway. It wasn't fighting to get away, or even shying from his touch.

Technically, he already had what he'd expected to get from Black, and actually far more. The man had been so damn obliging. Normally Daniel wouldn't think twice about backing out of a deal as crazy as this one, especially since he'd been almost ordered to by Black himself. There was a little feeling niggling at him that he _owed _Black somehow, like the fact that _Black_ was a Gryffindor meant that _Daniel_ had to honour the deal. Which wasn't how things worked at all, but damn. Black was alright, when all was said and done, and Daniel didn't want to screw him over.

Was that how Gryffindors always thought? Black had offered him a gracious out to the deal they'd made, and that made him want to carry it out _more_? It sounded stupid enough. Maybe he'd been infected. Maybe it was a magical Gryffindor-making mirror. Yech.

It was getting harder as time went by to remember that Black was a psychopath. It was a fact, however nice he'd been to Daniel, that when he lost it he really, really lost it. Witness Peter Pettigrew's lonely finger, and a dozen dead Muggles. If Black was your enemy, and you were a thirteen-year-old Slytherin kid, you'd run screaming. So there was simple fear in what Black might do if he went totally around the bend. Not that Daniel thought he would, but who could predict the behaviour of a madman? Better to give him what he wanted, and hope he went away.

He wondered idly how much trouble he'd get into if anyone found out he'd been rubbing elbows with Black, and if turning him in to Snape, along with this random obsession of his, would cancel it all out. But that just wasn't going to happen if it hadn't happened the first or the second time Black had let him go. He'd had the option then, and much less reason to keep the secret. If he hadn't done it then, he couldn't do it now. So Daniel was left holding Weasley's rat, in Gryffindor Tower, unable to take the thing away with him but not wanting to flake out on Black. Pride, sure, but also something way more annoying. Embarrassing, almost.

"This is stupid," he declared. "You're just a rat. You're a dying rat and this is stupid. He said I didn't have to do it, and here I am like the stupidest of the Gryffindors. Some kind of unholy Hufflepuff-Gryffindor blend." He shuddered at the thought.

He wandered over to pick up his wand, hoping that holding it would give him some kind of inspiration, or direction. As he reached down for it, the rat squirmed around and tipped itself off his hand and onto the bed.

Daniel frowned, and reached over to pick it up again.

The rat's fur, already pretty skimpy, started to vanish in front of his eyes, and its body started to bloat. In a sudden burst of energy the thing grew to ten times its size, lolling awkwardly along the bed. Its limbs contorted, joints cracked and the muzzle shrank to become a small lump on a round, pink head covered in short, grey-brown fuzz.

It was between Daniel and his wand. As soon as he realised that he was running for the door, swinging down to pick up his bag from where it lay.

"Stupefy," someone said.


	23. From the Tower

Daniel woke up to a fierce ache in his knee, and a stinging cheek. He could hear some people laughing down the … stairs?

It only took a moment for Daniel to realise he had no idea where he was. His bag was next to him on the stairs, and he could see his wand down on the landing. Upstairs was a closed door, and his knee really, really hurt. He absorbed all that for a moment, then put his hands on the step he was on and pushed up, so that his arms took all his weight. Even that much movement jarred his knee, and he bit down fiercely on his lip to stay quiet.

He pushed his way down the stairs one at a time, arms starting to shake after only two or three, and his breath coming hard. It might hurt to just fall down the stairs, but the spikes going all through his leg every step were getting harder to bear the further he went. When he stopped to rest with about ten steps to go he brushed a hand against his cheek. He couldn't feel any blood, but it was definitely swollen.

At the bottom of the stairs he forced his way across to his wand, gripped it firmly and felt himself relax just a tiny bit, even though the pain in his leg had risen to a steady agony. He lay down so he could see through the doorway and into the next room. It took him a while to register what he was seeing.

A bunch of Gryffindor second-years were crouched around a fireplace, giggling fiercely and whispering to each other, including the Weasley girl and his blond attacker who Jacqui had said was called Lucas. There were armchairs crowded haphazardly all around the room, with a few low tables and long sofas along the walls. Overall, it was cosy-looking, and very red.

He was just pushing himself out of sight, teeth gritted against the pain, when one of the kids shrieked so loudly he jumped, and fell back to the ground. He couldn't hold back _that _shout of pain.

They all looked around, away from their now-blue crackling fire, and Daniel was so done in he could only stare back at them.

Lucas got to his feet first, and pulled out his wand. "You," he said, with way more swagger than was called for. "Drop your wand."

"Jesus," Daniel said. "I'm not stupid enough to pull anything here, now."

"Drop it," a dark-haired girl said, pulling out her own wand.

Daniel swallowed, and forced his fingers to let go of his wand. His whole body was starting to shake now, and there was an icy cold feeling at the back of his neck. "Teacher," he said through chattering teeth, and closed his eyes.

Something heavy dropped onto his ankles, and he looked up sharply. The Weasley girl was backing slowly away from him, brown eyes fixed on the cloak she'd dropped. "Colin went," she said softly. "Someone will be here soon."

"Come on, Ginny," Lucas said. "Don't stay too close."

"You attacked _me_, you snot," Daniel said, dragging the cloak around his shoulders. "I'm not here to hurt you, I'm just … here."

"Rory," one of the boys said. "Don't be a prat, he's not going to do anything."

"He isn't," Weasley agreed. "I've got his wand. So put yours down."

Daniel closed his eyes again, trying to pretend that hadn't just happened.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

There was a sharp knock on the laboratory door. Snape ignored it, continuing to stir steadily. The standard instructions for the eidetic potion said one hundred and seventy-six clockwise stirs to finish, but in Snape's experience any potion only stirred in one direction could be improved by adding carefully-placed irregularities. The pattern he had discovered for this particular potion was for every eleventh stir to be anticlockwise, and every eighth stir alternately shallow, or deep.

The person outside knocked four more times while he was still stirring, so once the potion was sitting finished in the cooling cauldron Snape took off his gloves and made his way across to the door. At least it wouldn't be a student, not with the older ones in Hogsmeade. The younger ones didn't usually know where he did his own brewing.

"Ah, Filch," he said upon opening the door. Seeing Filch always put him in a good mood. Something about kindred spirits, and vast differences in authority.

"Gryffindor student reporting one of yours in their common room," Filch said, mouth twisted in distaste. "Says he's hurt his leg or summat."

Snape swept past the man immediately, leaving him to close the door and follow. "Which students?" he asked.

"Ah, that Creevey kid came out and told me," Filch said, already starting to wheeze at the brisk pace Snape had set. "Said he didn't know the name of your one, thought he was a third but. Was a boy."

One of his, alone, in Gryffindor tower. Snape shook his head. A third year, but not one whose name was widely known. Nott or Livingstone, then.

Livingstone, without a doubt. "You should return to your duties," he told Filch. "I'll sort this out."

"As you say," Filch said, and fell back.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Sir Cadogan had found his calling as the guardian to Gryffindor Tower. Snape didn't know what all the students were complaining about. The painted knight was absurdly reckless, overdramatic, fatuous, impractical and effortlessly aggravating. A perfect match for the students he was standing guard over.

"My good sir!" the knight cried, bowing low and nearly toppling forwards onto the grass. "It is my great pleasure to receive - "

"Epicaricacy," Snape said, pulling the portrait forwards as soon as the password released it, letting the knight finish his welcoming speech into the wall as Snape made his way into the Gryffindor common room.

It was a pleasant room in its way, if without the class and atmosphere of his own house. No Malfoy or Urquhart would be seen dead in a place like it, but Snape could see the appeal. He didn't have much time to dwell on the profound impact the Sorting Hat's vagaries had on a child's school days, not with a dozen Gryffindor eyes looking at him expectantly, and Livingstone raising himself up onto his elbows, face pale and bruised, opening his mouth to speak.

"Sir," Stephanie Biros said, fronting the little group of second-years. Livingstone lowered himself back to the ground and said nothing. "We didn't do anything to him, he was just here. We took this, though." She held out a wand, which Snape took from her quickly.

"I will make my own judgment on these matters," Snape informed her. "All of you sit over there," he pointed to a pair of sofas on the far side of the room, "and stay quiet."

They all did as they were told, some more promptly than others. Snape put them out of his mind and went to crouch by Livingstone.

The boy's eyes were clouded and confused, but he lifted himself back up as Snape approached, biting back a pained noise. The bruise on his face surrounded a small cut that looked like it had been partially healed, and cleaned.

"Are you hurt?" he asked, voice low and calm.

Livingstone nodded, blinking rapidly. "My knee," he said. "Hurts all the way down, but the knee mostly." He glanced warily past Snape, presumably at the Gryffindors. "Is this their common room?" he whispered.

Snape nodded briskly, and lifted the cloak that was resting over Livingstone's legs. "Did you see who attacked you?" he asked. There were tiny spots of blood on the right knee of the boy's trousers. The knee itself looked swollen, though it was difficult to tell considering how thick and baggy the jeans were.

He looked up at Livingstone, waiting for an answer, but the boy's eyes were closed again, and he was starting to shake. Snape lay the cloak down over his torso, cast a warming charm on it, and activated the disc that called for Poppy's immediate presence. As long as she was immediately available he'd be better off leaving the healing up to her. He set the disc on the floor by Livingstone, then moved over to the fire.

He tossed in a handful of Floo powder, called for Dumbledore, and waited, letting his eyes pass from the silent Gryffindors to the restless but restrained Livingstone.

Instead of sticking his head in the fire like a mere mortal to find out what was going on, Dumbledore emerged from the green flames without warning. "Severus," he said graciously. "What on earth brings you into these parts?"

"Where is Potter?" Snape asked. "He should be found immediately, along with any other Gryffindor student not in Hogsmeade."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled indulgently. "Indeed," he said. "If you would remain here with the students, I shall make a search of the tower."

The fire flared green again and Poppy bustled out, looking around the room in search of a prospective patient. She glanced quickly at both Dumbledore and Snape, then headed straight over to Livingstone.

Her wand moved through the air quickly, and she began to ask the boy soft questions about how he felt, and if that hurt, or helped. Livingstone only nodded and shook his head; speech seemed to be beyond him. Dumbledore trailed up the stairs, apparently unconcerned at the situation they found themselves in.

Snape, left with nothing to do but wait for a report from his colleague or his employer, was finally able to think.

Another of his students attacked. Another incident in Gryffindor Tower, while most of the student body were occupied elsewhere. Another burst of trouble involving Livingstone. A surprising lack of concern for Potter from Dumbledore, who usually went out of his way to show his partiality to Gryffindor, and for the Potter boy in particular.

He watched, frowning, as Poppy conjured a stretcher for Livingstone, and rose from his side to levitate him onto it. There were too many possibilities, no proof of a link between any of the incidents, too many variables. He needed at once to speak to Livingstone, Cadogan, Lupin, Potter, these Gryffindors, McGonagall, Nott and, in a perfect world, Black.

"Severus," Poppy said, beckoning him over.

Snape walked slowly over to where she was standing by the fire, thoughts spinning around in his mind.

"His kneecap is shattered," she told him quietly, "and he shows signs of mental trauma. Most likely a memory charm, but I don't like to probe too far at this stage."

"The knee is swollen," Snape said. "How long since the injury was sustained?"

"By my reckoning, between four and five hours," she said. "The same for the cut to his cheek. From what he says he's been conscious no longer than half an hour."

"Ten thirty?" Snape said, and she nodded.

They waited in silence for a while, Poppy checking on Livingstone every couple of minutes. The Gryffindors were starting to chatter among themselves, in that idiotic way children had of assuming that just because they were whispering, nobody would be able to hear them.

Just as Osbourne's theory about Black was starting to get mildly interesting Dumbledore came back down the stairs, looking quite satisfied and instantly commanding the attention of everybody in the room.

"Poppy," he said. "How is our patient?"

Snape fought to keep the glower off his face. Now was a fine time for him to notice Livingstone's existence.

"He's right here," Livingstone said grumpily from his position on the floor, giving Snape a moment of satisfaction of his own. "Is anyone going to tell me what's going on?"

"I think we should adjourn to the hospital wing, don't you?" Dumbledore said to nobody in particular. "Poppy, you and Severus head off, I'd like a brief word with our fine young Gryffindors here."

Snape gave those fine young Gryffindors a wholly undeserved withering glare on his way out.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Dumbledore only met up with them back in the hospital wing after Poppy had begun treatment of Livingstone's leg. She'd put him to sleep for it, and Snape found a new respect for the boy when she uncovered the bloody mess that was his right knee. It had bulged to twice its size, and Snape caught a couple of glimpses of bared bone before Poppy told him to stop hovering.

He hadn't been hovering. Observing, perhaps. During the first few diagnostics, where Livingstone had to remain conscious, his grimaces of pain were hauntingly similar to those of Adara Seaver, whenever she'd displeased the Dark Lord. Snape had found the sight almost mesmerising.

Not many people who came into contact with Livingstone would have had the privilege of attending those meetings, but it still made Snape uneasy. The Seavers were from the old school of Death Eaters, and had given years of enthusiastic service. Though Livingstone was much less personally objectionable than Draco Malfoy, those old enough to know much about the Seavers would have ample reason to hold a grudge.

Snape was quite willing to keep the confidence for Livingstone. It didn't seem to cause the boy much distress; Snape didn't know if he had realised the significance of the information he had received from his parents. It wasn't likely the boy could comprehend what it meant to have Death Eaters for parents and still flit about like the obstreperous nuisance he was. Though he _had _seemed somewhat less exuberant of late.

Dumbledore being in on the secret was what concerned him. If the old man wished, he could, in the blink of an eye, spin this around from being another third-year attacked in the castle to the Slytherin son of two Death Eaters infiltrating Potter's quarters.

Snape had backed off at Poppy's word, sat on a bed a few down from where she was working and wondered where Dumbledore had got to. There were things to be done; he couldn't wait forever on the headmaster, not when it was so important to establish the facts quickly.

Dumbledore came in at that moment, looking almost delighted. Snape would love to have known exactly what there was to be so happy about.

"The wand if you please, Severus," he said, coming to a halt in the middle of the room.

Snape stood, and walked across to hand it over. "Is there anything else that requires our attention?" he asked, not bothering to coat the pointed remark in too much courtesy. Livingstone was unconscious, after all.

"I have Professors Lupin and Sprout patrolling the corridors," Dumbledore informed him amiably, "Professor Binns is questioning the ghosts, Mr. Filch the portraits."

"Have you located Potter?"

"Young Harry is in no danger," Dumbledore replied. "Nor the students in the Tower. In fact, I believe they will find no reason to speak of this day again. It would be best if we were not to remind them."

Snape narrowed his eyes at the implications of _that_. "And the wand? One spell will not likely shed much light on the subject."

"I have invited Mr. Ollivander to meet with me in my office," Dumbledore said. "I daresay you will demand to attend?"

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel felt mighty vulnerable, not being able to move his leg, and without his wand, which Pomfrey said they had taken to reveal the most recent spells cast through it. From everything Daniel had heard, _Prior Incantato_ only showed one spell, which was why anyone with half a brain covered up any dodgy casting with a _lumos _or some other innocent charm.

He didn't know why they weren't letting anyone in to see him. Even Pomfrey, who smothered her patients like nothing on earth, wouldn't talk to him about what had happened. She seemed to be staying pretty busy in her office.

So when the door opened and Snape swept in, his feeling was one of immediate relief. Snape looked angry, but it was the kind of angry he got from Gryffindors and other teachers, so Daniel shouldn't cop too much of it. He was usually nicer to Slytherins when other people had pissed him off.

Snape stalked over to his bed, pulled up a chair and sat down, watching Daniel thoughtfully as he did so. He reached into a pocket, produced Daniel's wand and held it out.

Daniel forced himself to take it calmly. He couldn't stop his breathing from speeding up, both at relief of having it back in his hand, and nerves thinking of the information Snape might have found out from it.

"We are going to talk through this situation now," Snape said, his eyes still fixed on Daniel's. "Thoroughly and completely."

Daniel didn't know what there was to talk about. "I don't know anything that's happened," he said. "What did you find on my wand?"

There was a flash of impatience in Snape's eyes, which Daniel was sure he could have hidden if he'd wanted to. Maybe he'd been tolerant enough dealing with Dumbledore and whoever else was sorting this all out. It might be best if he kept the man happy, make sure he would stay on Daniel's side.

"What were you doing in Gryffindor Tower?" Snape asked.

Daniel looked away from the endless black eyes, until he remembered he had nothing to hide, and no good reason to be embarrassed.

"I don't know," he said as normally as he could. "I just woke up there."

"Before that, what do you last remember doing?"

That made Daniel stop and think. He had a fuzzy kind of memory of McGonagall calling him out in Transfiguration, and Corner flicking ink at Goldstein in Runes just afterwards.

"What day?" Snape asked after a moment.

Daniel felt his eyes widen at that. "Tuesday, I think," he said weakly. "Why, what is it today?"

Snape regarded him levelly. "Sunday," he said. "It is five o'clock on Sunday afternoon, and the last day of term."

Daniel took a deep breath, and held it. "What was on the wand?" he asked again, not fussed any more about the quivering in his voice.

After a moment of thought, Snape nodded. "Evanesco," he said. "Scourgify. Episkey. Stupefy. Obliviate. Confundus. Coactus. Impedimenta. Crucio. Aduras pulmas. Several stinging hexes. Rennervate. Incarcerous. Stupefy."

Daniel just stared at him. Snape then did something very odd. He put his hand on Daniel's shoulder, and squeezed slightly. "You understand, then, how important it is that you tell me as much as you can remember."

Daniel realised his mouth was open, and closed it. _Crucio_. That was the kind of thing he didn't think you could forget. Obliviate he'd expected, but … _Crucio. _"Were they … were they all on me? Can you tell?"

"Yes," Snape said bluntly. "They were."

Coactus sounded nasty, whatever it was. But none of the spells in that list, whatever they were, could come close to Crucio. Even Draco wasn't blasé about the Unforgivables.

"Livingstone," Snape said, and pressed down more firmly. "I am being more honest with you than is wise. I would appreciate it if you were to return the favour."

Well if Snape was asking him to be mature, then that's what he'd be. "I remember Tuesday's dinner, I think," Daniel said. "It's all a bit of a mess. I was kind of miserable about a few things, so I wasn't paying much attention to stuff. It could have been another day, maybe. But I remember classes from Tuesday for sure."

"Have you ever considered entering Gryffindor Tower, for any reason?" Snape asked, removing his hand and sitting back a little. "Have you had any idle schemes that, in the last week or so, you might have decided to take further?"

Daniel tried to think. The only reason he'd want to get into Gryffindor would be to pull some kind of a trick on Dean and Seamus. Or maybe to help Theo out with something Granger related. Neither one was worth the risk, though.

"I don't think so," he said. "I mean, unless I went mad and decided it was a great idea to sneak into enemy territory to short-sheet a bed or something."

"Mr. Sterkt says he saw you on the sixth floor during the last Quidditch match," Snape said, watching Daniel so closely he couldn't help but shrink back into the bed a little.

"I'd met a ghost," Daniel explained. "We talked for a while, I went where she was going. Then afterwards I guess I just wandered around. I don't think I even went up as far as Gryffindor Tower."

"What ghost did you meet?"

"It was a girl," Daniel said, trying to remember if she'd given her name. He was pretty sure she had. "She walks around reading her brother's diary. Kind of quiet. Dignified."

"Eloise Gladstone," Snape said, nodding. "So you parted ways with Miss Gladstone, wandered around the castle a little, returned, and that was all that occurred?"

Daniel nodded. "Everything was normal after. I went back down and put up with the Quidditch stuff."

"Did you intend to go on the second Hogsmeade trip?"

"Yeah, sure," Daniel said. "Why wouldn't I?"

"You didn't," Snape said tersely. "For whatever reason, you stayed behind in the castle."

"I like Hogsmeade," Daniel protested weakly. "We had a great time last visit. I haven't been to Honeyduke's or Zonko's yet. I was looking forward to it."

"Mr. Nott and Mr. Malfoy tell me you were ready to go, then declared you had forgotten your money, and therefore returned to the dormitory to retrieve it."

"Makes sense to me," Daniel said, trying not to let it get to him that everyone knew what he'd been doing except for him. And that Snape had been chatting to his friends while he was stuck in here all alone except for Pomfrey, who was useless when it came to company.

"Yet none of the first- or second-years remember seeing you in that time," Snape pressed. "In fact, several portraits testify that you ran directly up to Gryffindor Tower, dallied in the corridor until the door opened from the inside, and entered, with purpose."

It helped if Daniel stopped thinking of it as being him who had done any of these things. He'd been asleep since Tuesday evening, and some kind of shapeshifting thing had taken his form and run amok with it. And taken the Crucio.

Except it was _his_ leg that Pomfrey had put in some kind of invisible splint, and it had been him waking up by himself on those stairs. He couldn't remember much, it seemed, but he had a feeling that _that_ moment would be staying with him. Waking up in the hospital wing after the draught Pomfrey had given him had been one of the most terrifying moments of his life, when he'd looked around and hadn't seen any signs of life.

And that was before he'd found out what had happened to him in Gryffindor Tower.

"I don't remember," he said uselessly.

"What is the first thing you remember today?" Snape asked, looking businesslike, but also a little sympathetic. It made him look more human than Daniel had ever seen before.

Daniel forced his mouth open, and the words out. "I was on the stairs," he said. "My bag was with me, but my wand was down on the landing. I had to — " he gestured with his arms, demonstrating how he'd climbed down the stairs, "because if I bent my leg it hurt like bejeesus. Or if I moved it at all, really. I got to my wand, and then I saw the Gryffindors all around the fire. They made a noise, I jumped, it hurt, I made a noise, they found me. The rest you've heard I guess."

Snape looked at him for a long while. "Dumbledore is inclined to keep this incident very quiet," he said eventually, an angry twist to his mouth. "If it were to become public knowledge, I daresay there would be pressure for a more intensive interrogation."

"You mean like Legilimency," Daniel said.

"Or Veritaserum," Snape said simply.

Thinking of Legilimency brought Daniel's thoughts spinning back to last time, and the consent Snape had needed from his parents. He was just about to ask to see them, when he remembered that they technically weren't his parents any more, and he'd claimed they were out of the country.

"Right there," Snape said, his voice hard. "There is something you are keeping from me."

He didn't want Snape to stop being considerate, but he couldn't even speak when more than anything he wanted to see _them_. He wanted it so much his chest ached, going nicely with the dull pain running down his right leg. But if he owned up, and Snape found out he'd run away, that would be the end of it. He might not be able to see them ever again, not if the Child Services people got talking to the Hogwarts people and showed them all the bullshit they'd written up on his home and family.

Before he knew it his hand was at his mouth, and he was biting hard on a knuckle to stop from sobbing right then and there. He tried to breathe, but could barely get any air in as his lungs shrank and his face started to heat up unbearably.

His hand was pulled away from his mouth, and he was lost. He didn't know if it was exhaustion, or terror, or pain, or despair, or just plain old grief, but he'd had enough of it.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

After Pomfrey's account of Livingstone's first return to consciousness, Snape didn't want him waking alone again. Dumbledore had told Poppy to refuse all visitors to the hospital wing, so Snape had no choice but to remain himself. He flicked idly through the essays he'd brought up from his office, mulling over the events of the day, trying to piece together Dumbledore's motives and reflecting on the sorry ironies of his own life.

He'd defected from the Dark Lord's ranks, ready to make a moral choice which could set the standard for the rest of his life. When he had discovered the Dark Lord's intention to kill Lily, he had turned his back on the cruelty and the bitterness he had held close to him since childhood. He had discovered, to his own surprise, that his love was stronger than his hatred.

It had been easy to accept Dumbledore's disdain for him, when he had been at his lowest ebb and full of self-loathing in any case. Dumbledore had promised what the Dark Lord would not, and like a fool Snape had assumed that such an honourable Gryffindor would stick to his word. He had even held out a little hope that after the dust had settled he could be guided into a way of life that Lily wouldn't find so repulsive.

He had imagined many futures, once the deal had been struck. Living in constant fear of his life spying on the Dark Lord would be bliss, so long as there was Lily. He had easily accepted that his own death, no matter how gruesome and by any number of hands, would be worth her life. He would give it in a heartbeat.

What he had never expected was that it would all be for nothing. Dumbledore, whether by design or by weakness, had not prevented the Dark Lord's attack. Then had come the real betrayal, though he hadn't seen it as such at the time.

Snape had offered Dumbledore his life, and his service, in exchange for Lily's. Dumbledore, having entirely fouled up his side of the bargain, had taken Snape's grief and fury, and mercilessly twisted it to his own convenience, with his talk of Lily's eyes, and her love, and her son's future. It had taken months, perhaps even years, as the threat of the Dark Lord diminished and the anguish of Lily's loss faded, for Snape to truly understand what he had surrendered.

So now he sat by the bed of a boy under his protection, and knew that if Dumbledore thought it necessary, that boy would be thrown to the wolves. Even after a dozen years' unwavering loyalty, Snape knew that Dumbledore saw him still as a Death Eater, a man to be thrown into the least savoury, most thankless tasks, with defiance never an option.

Working for the great and benevolent Dumbledore, Snape stood by as twelve-year-olds were Obliviated by their headmaster, and stood around in common rooms and hospital wings as circumstances spun hopelessly out of his control. For all of the Dark Lord's bloodlust and malevolence, at least in his service Snape had felt like a man.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

This time, he didn't wake up alone. There was still a brief moment of panic as soon as he reached consciousness, but when he opened his eyes to scan the room, he saw Snape sitting nearby reading something in his lap. He then picked up the softness of the bed he was lying on, and shot a glance at the table where he'd last seen his wand.

It was there still, resting comfortably on the dark wood. Daniel looked at it, feeling no pain, but a new kind of tiredness he hadn't felt even while he was being questioned. With Snape nearby, his wand close to hand and no real reason to move, Daniel found it very easy to drift off again.


	24. Recalibrate

"Daniel. _Daniel_."

That moment of alarm as he woke up was getting annoyingly familiar. He opened his eyes to see Theo standing a few feet away, looking tense.

He glanced automatically to his wand, then sniffed and looked around to see if Snape was still there. He'd been there every time Daniel had woken up through the night, but was nowhere to be seen now.

"We're leaving in like fifteen minutes," Theo said. "I told Snape I wasn't going unless I could see you."

Daniel waited, but apparently that was all Theo had to say. "Have fun in Hogsmeade?" he asked, hoping his friend didn't have time to ask any questions he didn't have the answers to.

Theo seemed to settle, and hopped up onto the end of the bed. Daniel tried to pull his legs up out of the way, but his right leg wouldn't bend, so he settled for shifting them across a little. "Not really," he said. "Draco was cranky all morning; he was sure you were trying to avoid him. Then a couple of teachers and Fudge himself came into the Three Broomsticks and killed the party. We were going to shift into the Hog's Head, but Gwen Chalmers was in there with a bunch of other witches."

"Right," Daniel said. "Well next time, I'll be there and we'll paint the town red."

"Were you actually trying to avoid him?" Theo asked, leaning in and looking intrigued. "I mean seriously, you forgot your money? I saw you getting your stuff ready last night, like you do every night."

Daniel stared at him helplessly. He could absolutely trust Theo, but he'd come to a silent kind of understanding with Snape about keeping things quiet. And it's not like he could go over it in time for Theo to catch the Express out in time.

"I wasn't," he said. "Like I'd miss Hogsmeade to avoid _Draco_."

"Yeah I didn't think you would," Theo said. "Draco sure did though. As soon as he found out you'd passed out again he got so bloody quiet. You've got one up on him and no mistake. Guilt trips aplenty. I'd better go though, have fun languishing in here."

He got up, and if Daniel didn't know better he might think that the issue had been put to bed. But this was Theo, and there was always more going on in his brain than Daniel could hope to understand.

"I will," he said. "Don't let them get you down."

"Rightio," Theo said, and made his way quickly out of the wing, waving behind his head as he walked out the door.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel grabbed at his wand as soon as he was alone again. He held it loosely in his right hand as he sat up and looked around to see if any of his stuff was here. The silence was starting to ring uncomfortably in his ears.

He swung himself around, letting his legs lift up and putting his hands on the floor to peer under the bed. Sitting under there was an overnight bag, set next to his favourite boots. He pulled the bag up to look through it, struggling back up to lie on the bed normally. In the bag was a clean set of his clothes and a comb. He pulled the curtains around his bed and started to get changed. He was pulling a shirt over his head and trying to think how he might change into his jeans without bending his leg, when he heard someone enter the room.

He picked up his wand slowly, even though he was telling himself he didn't have to. It was probably just Pomfrey, not a savage memory-eating monster. He couldn't greet _everyone _with a wand in the face. That didn't mean he didn't want to.

The paces were too long and heavy to be Pomfrey, and he didn't want Snape to see him clutching at his wand like such a wimp. He looked regretfully at the wand in his hand, and put it back down. There was nothing to fear, so he wouldn't be afraid. Simple.

He stuck his head out the curtain, catching a very brief look of surprise on Snape's face as he was walking over. "Hey," he said. "I mean, good morning."

"Good morning," Snape said levelly. "Are you feeling well?"

"Yeah, fine," Daniel said.

Snape pulled a chair in behind the curtain, closing it behind him. Daniel stuffed the pyjama top he had been wearing under his pillow, feeling a bit weird being half changed with Snape right there.

"How long until I can move my leg again?" he asked.

"You will receive your second treatment at lunchtime," Snape said. "If all goes as expected, you will be free to leave before dinner."

"Did you find out any more stuff?"

"Little of use," Snape said.

Weirdly, Daniel thought of Blaise, then. He still didn't know who'd attacked _him_, and that had been months ago. Daniel decided to give Snape maybe a week of investigation before pestering him for results. "What am I meant to do in here all day?" he complained. "I've been awake for ten minutes and I'm bored already."

"You could," Snape said, the hint of a threat in his voice, "attempt to catch up on your classwork in Herbology, Defence Against the Dark Arts, or History of Magic."

"Doing homework in bed is bad for your back," Daniel told him helpfully. "It'll give me a stoop."

Out of apparently nowhere, Snape produced three of Daniel's textbooks. "Sitting up and reading will do no such thing," he said. "When I return this afternoon, we will discuss your progress."

He got up and left quite abruptly, leaving Daniel to stare at the books he'd been left to study. Binns wouldn't give a shit if he was crap at history, and Sprout thought he was a lot dumber than he actually was, so she tended to give him a lot of leeway, treating him almost like he was one of her Hufflepuffs. If it wasn't so bloody convenient, Daniel would probably get offended by that.

Lupin probably didn't care that much about his progress either, but Snape _had _told Daniel not to completely fuck up that class. He flipped through the book, not sure where they were even up to at the moment.

The pictures were okay, he had to admit. He didn't know much about wizarding art, if they even used magic, but the double paged picture of the cottage on the moors with Hinkypunks lighting up a path and the Sluagh on the horizon was really something. He liked the Varkolak, too. Now that was a _real _monster.

But mostly, the creatures in the book looked cool rather than Dark. Penny drew scarier than that stuff every day without breaking a sweat. The vampires looked like Snape when they didn't look like B-grade Draculas, and the banshee strongly reminded Daniel of the Wicked Witch of the West. The werewolf was a particular disappointment; it pretty much looked like a regular wolf, just with slightly freaky eyes, and an oddly-proportioned head. Had absolutely nothing on any of the werewolves he'd seen in movies.

Daniel was sure there had to be scarier stuff out there. Dementors, for example. They were among the many creatures they mentioned then just moved on from, hardly giving any information at all. Things like the Cherufe, and Popobawa, Kekkai, and Kishi sounded properly Dark, but didn't even have pictures.

He put them out of his mind, and turned back to the start, to read about Fuathan and Grindylows and their stupid little habits. If they were Dark Arts, Daniel was a Gryffindor.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Pomfrey came and did spells at him while he ate his lunch. She made his knee tingle, then ache, then heat up almost unbearably, then cool down sharply. He ate his sandwiches, only partly listening to her stream of incantations.

Eventually she stopped the magic and patted his knee. "There," she said. "You shouldn't have any problems with it now."

"Cool," he said, mouth full of egg and lettuce. "Thanks a million. Can I go now?"

"Not yet, dear," she said. "You need to be monitored for at least three more hours."

Daniel scowled. "Monitored how?" he grouched. "All you do is leave me alone in here to get bored out of my brain, and I end up _studying_."

She smiled tolerantly, and bustled away back into her office. Daniel dragged his feet towards himself, sighing in relief when there was no resistance or pain in his knee. He closed the curtains back around and changed into his jeans, wondering if it was worth trying to just walk out, and then avoid Snape for the whole rest of the holidays so he wouldn't have to do the work the man seemed to expect of him. On the _holidays._

He left the pyjamas and comb on the bed, since they weren't his, tucked the books under one arm, and with his wand in his other hand, walked across to one of the beds nearer the door. Without looking to see if Pomfrey was watching, he sat cross-legged and opened the Defence text again. Last time he'd only just managed to bluff his way out, and that was only because Theo had been there to do it for him.

When Snape came in an hour or so later, he was actually properly reading the bit on Boggarts, which he'd somehow managed to read without paying attention to at least five times so far this year.

He was starting to understand how powerful stuff that messed with your mind could be. Even not counting what had just happened with Obliviate, all that business with the Legilimency and everything had made it clear how fragile the whole thing could be. As he read the book, he got even madder at Lupin for dropping a Boggart on them first lesson like that.

"Mr. Livingstone," Snape said, perhaps sounding a little surprised to see him actually doing as he'd been told.

"Hi," Daniel said. "Do we really have to face a Boggart to pass Defence this year?"

"You will be doing so regardless," Snape said, standing by the bed. "It is a required skill for any wizard."

"Can I do it this holidays then, when nobody's around?"

Snape regarded him for a moment, eyes the familiar, unfathomable black. "You will need to ask Professor Lupin," he said eventually. "I don't know that he will be inclined to agree."

"I've been politer than in my whole life," Daniel said, just about sick of playing nice for no good reason. "Why shouldn't he?"

"He is not obliged," Snape said simply. "Have you been reading only this textbook?"

"Yeah," Daniel said.

"Sir," Snape said.

Snape didn't usually outright remind him like that. Daniel felt himself smile, but he had no idea why. "Yeah, sir," he said, fighting the smile off his face.

Snape scowled at that, but Daniel wasn't fussed. "Don't wizards usually use magic in art, like the pictures in the book?" he asked. "Because they look just like Muggle sketches to me. They don't even move."

"That book is written for children," Snape said dismissively, sparing only a glance for the page Daniel was showing him. "To accurately depict the creatures discussed therein would be inappropriate."

"_Professor _Lupin brought in a Grindylow for us to see in real life," Daniel pointed out. "And they don't put in the really spooky creatures anyway."

"If you would like to write a superior textbook by all means, do so," Snape said.

Daniel could _feel_ what was coming. "My knee is fine now," he announced before Snape could move on to asking questions about his studies. "Pom — Madame Pomfrey said I could go once you'd seen me."

"Untrue," Snape said. "It will be three o'clock before you are free to go."

Ah, well. It had been worth a try.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Walking back into Slytherin felt kind of familiar, but also completely foreign. He didn't feel much warmth from the fire, and it all looked pretty dead without the bits and pieces of sixty-odd students scattered all around.

Daniel went quickly down to his own room, and levitated his trunk up to the common room. He spread out all his school stuff, and some of the things he usually had out in his room back at home, and then went down to get his bedding and dump it on one of the sofas. Hopefully it would be easier to sleep somewhere completely different than usual, than down in the dormitory in a weird, lonely silence.

No matter how much time he had to fill in over the next couple of weeks, the last thing Daniel wanted to do was spend his whole holidays studying. He put his books and parchment and everything on a table far in a corner, and wandered over to the fireplace.

He sat for a while, trying to shake off the feeling that he was still living in some kind of extended dream sequence. The absolute stillness all around him didn't help, and neither did the mesmerising crackle and flicker of the fire.

His mind sidled up to that list of spells Snape had told him, and he couldn't think quickly enough of anything to distract him. He couldn't remember the whole list, though. How could he, when the words Crucio and Obliviate sat right up top in blinding neon?

He supposed the best way to be hit by Crucio was to be mind-wiped straight after. He just wished that the Obliviate hadn't also eaten up nearly a week of his life, that he'd never be able to get back. Who knew what he might be expected to remember when all his classmates returned?

Before his mind could run too far into what_ might _have happened, he did what he'd been wanting to do for a while. He deepened his breathing, started a slow count in his mind, and let himself drift back to a place where he was happy, and comfortable, and at peace.

He woke up suddenly, for no reason he could tell, and made a desperate lunge for where his wand was sitting on a nearby table. He thought back, reaching for his last memory, and lower his wand only once he realised the last thing he remembered was falling asleep, right where he was.

It still took a little while for his heart to settle back into a regular rhythm, and even once it had there was a sickness to his stomach and a grim feeling of desperation he couldn't seem to shake.

He lay back on the sofa and closed his eyes, trying to drag himself back to his peaceful place.

For the first time in years, he just couldn't find it. He breathed, and counted, and waited, and tried to let himself fall, but kept being brought back to himself by flashes of panic that he couldn't find reasons for.

After what felt like hours, he admitted defeat and sat up. He might as well get his Christmas letters out of the way. There was nothing else to do down here, once sleep wasn't an option.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The hall looked ridiculously big when Daniel wandered in there just after sunrise, having stayed up all night writing letters and matching them with the presents he'd bought back over the summer. When it got a bit closer to Christmas Day, all he'd need to do was make one trip up to the Owlery. Free post was awesome.

Burbage was the only person in the hall when he walked in. She gave him a friendly smile from her spot up at the staff table, and went back to reading the paper.

Daniel sat down the end of the Slytherin table, and stared at the platter of hot food that appeared in front of him. He wasn't that hungry, but he took a couple of sausages and put them on a plate from force of habit.

He hung out there, watching teachers come and go well before any student showed their face. It must have been at least nine o'clock by the time the three Gryffindors came in, ate a hasty breakfast and vanished.

After them came an older girl with very short brown hair and deep-set hazel eyes, who looked around a bit gloomily, spotted Daniel and came over to sit right by him.

"Hey up," she said easily. "You'm Daniel Livingstone, right?"

"Yeah," Daniel said, jamming his brain reluctantly into conversation mode. "That's me."

"Hazel," she said, holding out a hand. Daniel took it awkwardly. "Seems to me we're the sundries in this holidays, ought we to get along."

"Right," Daniel said, after turning that into a proper sentence. He thought a moment, then made an educated guess. "No other Hufflepuffs, then?"

"Not a one," she sighed, and reached for the bacon. Daniel congratulated himself on his accurate prejudice. "For all the years of Mother be needed in Mongolia over Christmas, to choose this one!"

"Why, what's she do?" Daniel asked, not sure if she was making fun of him. Nobody actually talked like that, surely.

"She'm a wrangler mostly," the girl said, mouth full. "A dab hand with creatures. Oft times she gets work distant, she doesn't say quite what. What's yours, left you stuck here at times like these?"

That wasn't even a question, as far as Daniel could make out. And he wasn't in any mood for conversation anyway. So he just shrugged, and sat back in his chair, watching two Ravenclaw seventh years stroll to their own table.

"They've set this thing up all cockeyed," Hazel declared. "A half dozen of us here on two weeks, all set apart like we'd befoul one another. Not like that one'll catch the daft from I, or the wicked from you."

Daniel turned to see her pointing to a little first year coming in all on his own and heading to the Ravenclaw table, where he was greeted briefly then ignored by his older housemates.

"Ho!" Hazel called, and he jumped and looked around. She beckoned him over, and he gulped and looked away.

"You'd better invite him to Hufflepuff, not over here," Daniel said dryly. "I don't think _catching _the wicked is what would bother him."

"Piffle," she said. "If all you could stop cracking on about how you're despised, you could find more liking about."

She was giving him a headache. "Well, I'm done," he said, even though he'd barely eaten any of what was on his plate. His eyes came unfocussed as he looked down, and he rubbed them, annoyed.

"You look bagged," she commented, narrowing her eyes at him. "You been gadding about nighttimes?"

That brought an outright scowl to his face. "No," he said. "What's it to you, anyway?"

She glanced very briefly at the staff table, like she wasn't sure what to do next. Daniel followed her gaze. Snape was a good actor, and nursing a goblet of something or other, gaze unfocused. Sprout was less subtle, and Daniel caught her in an encouraging nod to her student.

"Oh, hell," Daniel said. "You're under _orders_?"

"No sense to hold alone all through the break," Hazel said quickly. "No shame in a little heartsick, Danny-o."

"Fuck off," Daniel said, his voice cracking on the first syllable. "You don't know me, don't call me that."

"You don't cuss me," she retorted. "I've done nothing but try and inspirit."

"You talk like a crazy person," Daniel told her. "And you don't know a thing about me."

"Mr. Livingstone," Snape said from the end of the table. "Miss Teague-Ganyade."

"Morning, sir," Hazel said.

"What," Daniel said.

"Have you finished your meal?" Snape asked, with a knowing glance at Daniel's half-full plate.

Daniel weighed up staying near this Hazel girl against going to talk to Snape.

"Yeah, I'm done," he said and got to his feet. The world got a little fuzzy around him as he stood, but it cleared quickly enough.

"_Lovely_ being ambushed by you," he said to Hazel, and followed Snape out of the hall, down the stairs and into his office.

Snape directed him into the armchair. Daniel sank into it and resigned himself to awkward conversation.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Snape had hoped Livingstone might bounce back from this latest drama in the same miraculous way he had from the Legilimency in September. Generally speaking, he had a great knack for solving his own problems, apparently without effort. But the boy sitting in front of him was ragged. He quite clearly hadn't slept, and there was a kind of wildness behind his eyes that Snape didn't like the look of.

He should have known better than to trust Hufflepuffs in any matter that required even a mote of discretion. Teague-Ganyade's heart was in the right place, but she hadn't had the sense to tone down her bizarre mode of speech. He'd expected better of Sprout, but without being able to give her all of the relevant information he perhaps had not accurately conveyed the need for sensitivity.

"You are finding sleep difficult," Snape said, and let those words hang in the air for as long as Livingstone wanted to let them.

"I don't want to wake up," Livingstone said, eyes half-closed and fixed on the floor. "To find it had happened again, you know."

"Avoiding sleep will not address such an issue."

"I _know_," the boy snapped. "That doesn't mean I can _sleep_." Looking up to see Snape's face, he scowled even harder and added, "Sir."

It was irrational, yes. But the boy _was_ thirteen, with his own fair share of troubles. "I see," Snape said. "Did you intend to seek my assistance?"

Silence. As it wore on, Snape thought over where he could go from here. He could probably delegate the whole issue to Poppy, but giving up a boy so avowedly independent to a witch who lived to fuss over her students wasn't an ideal situation. Attempting to contact the boy's guardians would create a great deal more complications, even assuming they could be located and returned to Hogwarts from wherever they were at the moment.

He had been intending to wait an answer out of Livingstone, but when he saw the boy's head drooping he realised that unless he wanted more evidence of just how _comfortable _Livingstone felt around him, he'd have to take a much more active part in the conversation.

"Livingstone," he said.

The boy fixed gloomy grey eyes on his, and waited in silence.

It was hard to tell with Livingstone, Snape mused, whether a blunt statement of fact would be received with gratitude or indignation. He didn't know if the boy would take an offer of help and support as common sense, charity or an outright insult.

What was always true, though, was that the more power he thought he held, the happier he tended to be. Snape spoke accordingly.

"What would you like me to do?" he asked.

Livingstone sat on his answer for a very long time, staring blankly at the wall. When he spoke, his voice was calm. "I need to know there'll be people around when I wake up," he said. "Otherwise I just can't let go."

That hadn't precisely answered Snape's question, but the frankness it had been delivered with was a positive sign. If he could couch his aid as simply practical and necessary, the boy shouldn't get his back up about it.

"Are there any other issues on your mind that require resolution?" Snape inquired. If he had more to offer the boy, he would be able to make demands of his own with some chance of them being accepted. Such as an explanation for his extraordinary recovery in September, and another look at that necklace.

"I want you to tell me everything about my parents," Livingstone said, not taking even a second to think about it. "I want to know what the _hell_ they were thinking, and I want to know more about Legilimency and Occlumency, as well as proper self-defence against _people_, not bloody kappas."

To think, Snape had doubted Livingstone would accept his help. It seemed an equal trade would be possible after all.

"You may sleep here, now," Snape declared. "I will determine a more practical solution for the near future, and later today we shall discuss your requests and come to some sort of arrangement."

"Weren't you even listening?" Livingstone said, with belligerence borne of fatigue. "I _can't_ sleep. That's the whole _problem._"

"I will remain," Snape told him simply. "To be here, when you wake."

The boy's colour rose slightly, and he scowled and looked away. "Fine," he said. Ungrateful brat. Did he think Snape _wanted _to spend his time supervising the boy's naps?

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel woke up more slowly than last time, eased into consciousness by the scratching of a quill on parchment, the occasional tapping of fingers on wood, and regular frustrated sighs from somewhere less than a dozen feet away.

His first move was still to check he had his wand, but it was less of a frenzy and more of a double-check. He sat up, looking across to Snape, who was sitting at his desk frowning over whatever he was marking. After a moment Snape looked up, met his eyes, and set his quill down.

"I will discuss with you, where possible, what I know of your parents and their history," the man said, without so much as a _good morning_. "I will answer questions you have regarding Legilimency and Occlumency, but in doing so I expect complete honesty from you regarding your experiences with both."

That didn't sound too bad. Just so long as 'complete honesty' didn't include giving the man free rein over his thoughts, it suited Daniel just fine.

"In addition," Snape continued, and Daniel's heart sank a little, "if your sleep has been disturbed during the night, and I am to be in my office, or brewing, you may rest there for no longer than two hours at a time. If you find yourself at leisure you will either assist me in the laboratory or, under my supervision, conduct your own studies. This may include from time to time some specific defensive tactics, as required. Every day you will spend some time out of doors, and before the end of today you will apologise to Miss Teague-Ganyade who, despite her faults, was trying only to be of assistance."

Well. Snape had clearly given it all quite a lot of thought. Daniel tried to find something to object to in that whole speech, but to his disappointment it seemed quite fair. No real obligation in any of it.

"What's all this apology rubbish?" he asked. "It's hardly your business how I get on with random Hufflepuffs."

"You have no other objections?" Snape said, a bit snidely.

Damned if he'd fall into whatever trap the man had set about _Miss Teague-Ganyade_. "No it's all fine, actually," he said. "I need to practise my apologies anyway."

That made Snape's lips quirk, to Daniel's delight.

"It is past lunchtime," Snape said, face impassive again. "Go out and eat. Tomorrow morning report here at ten in the morning or not at all."

Daniel stood, but his thoughts were already on that evening. "What if I can't sleep tonight?" he asked, determined not to be embarrassed about asking. "Am I meant to just stay up all night again?"

"If no other option presents itself," Snape said. "You do recall the offer I made you not two minutes ago, do you not?"

"Of course I do!" Daniel said. "It's just two hours of sleep a day doesn't seem quite enough to me."

"I daresay it isn't," Snape said, and got up to show him out.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Hello, Miss Teague-Ganyade," Daniel said, sitting himself down beside the Hufflepuff girl, who was in the middle of her dinner. "Sorry about kicking up such a fuss earlier. I was tired."

That had been a good one. She smiled at him, and seemed fine with him sitting there. It was best to keep apologies calm and casual when it came to Hufflepuffs. Apologising to Slytherins and Ravenclaws usually took a bit more grovelling, sincere or otherwise, and apologising to Gryffindors just wasn't the done thing.

He looked up to see if Snape was watching from the staff table, but he wasn't even there.

"Hazel, please," the girl said, "Miss Teague-Ganyade's winceable."

"Where did you grow up?" Daniel asked, biting into a chicken drumstick. "I've never heard anyone talk like you."

"Guess," she said smiling broadly. "Venture you'll not be right in ten."

"Yorkshire," he said straight away.

"Nope," she said. "My pa's from roundabouts, but not I."

Daniel's geography wasn't flash hot, and with the accent leading nowhere, he was pretty much stuck. "Mongolia?" he hazarded.

She laughed. "Give it in," she suggested. "I was seven years in North America, then some in the Soviets and roundabout. For schooling, I've had to set down roots hereabouts."

Now that was just silly. Daniel watched TV, he'd seen plenty of movies. No one in America or in the Soviet Union talked like she did. Didn't explain the Yorkshire accent, either.

She watched him think for a moment, then rolled her eyes. "The talk's this way from some spellcraft," she said. "Translating spells a little solid, on me just a bairn. So far as we know, such things can't be overrode. That do for you?"

"Must be annoying," Daniel said, feeling like his work here was done. Mystery solved, apology given.

"I've not been in Wales, somehow," she said. "Can you speak Welsh?"

"Some," Daniel said. "Not much beyond _cymru am byth _and _ydych chi'n siarad Saesneg_. Comes of growing up in a city, I guess."

"Not so many Welsh students about, that I've seen."

Daniel didn't know what point she was trying to make. "Wales isn't that big," he said, shrugging.

"Want to come down the common room after dinner?" she asked, like she couldn't hold it in any longer. "Things are deathly dull about the place, need some life."

He couldn't help but think of the last time he'd gone into another house's territory. Normally he'd jump at an opportunity to get in somewhere he usually couldn't, but this … he just wasn't sure.

"Derek's to come," she said. "Don't fear what I'll be seducing you or somesuch."

Daniel scoffed loudly, then frowned. "Who's Derek?"


	25. Not the Greatest of Holidays

**Grmph, the underlining in this chapter should be strikethrough.**

_Derek_ was a right pain in the backside.

Daniel had roomed with Draco Malfoy for over two years now, and when his first impression of the Ravenclaw kid was that he was a self-centred snob, he knew exactly what he was talking about.

That evening, when he'd followed Hazel down into the Hufflepuff rooms, Derek had been waiting outside the door, a leather satchel over his shoulder, brown hair combed carefully, looking every inch the swot.

"Derek Quinn," he announced, holding a hand out.

Daniel shook his hand, then stuck his back in his pockets straight away. "Daniel," he said.

"Jolly good of Hazel to invite us down here, don't you think?" Quinn said, breezing through the door as soon as Hazel opened it.

"Not really," Daniel said. "She wanted the company."

"Slytherin," Quinn said, and that was that. That was his comeback. Daniel wasn't sure quite what he'd meant by it, to be honest.

"None of that down here, then," Hazel chided. "All of us are differing equal."

Quinn tossed her a slightly contemptuous look over his shoulder and made himself at home at the huge round table in the middle of the common room. "It's a nice room," he said generously. "Table takes up more room than it really ought to, I think. You could fit twice as many people around a collection of smaller ones."

Daniel tuned him out and wandered around the room. He'd seen three out of the four common rooms within a couple of days, and the differences were pretty interesting.

His own common room was easily the coolest, all glowing greens and calm greys, with an almost underwater feel to it. Classier than Daniel had been used to back home, easily. Just being down there made him feel a lot older and more sophisticated. Almost _executive_.

Gryffindor, from what he'd seen of it from his position on the floor just recently, had been quite scattershot and snug. He hadn't enjoyed his time there, but that was hardly the room's fault. He supposed that for Gryffindors it was homey, with comfy armchairs and little tables, all in fiery red and orange. Lively, perhaps.

Hufflepuff was something else entirely. Decorated in yellow and dark grey drapes, the room was completely round, and was solid and earthy where Slytherin was subtle and smooth, and Gryffindor was warm and bright. The couches and chairs were set up around the room in a way that invited openness. Even the passages down to the dormitories looked like continuations of the main room rather than ways out of it.

Maybe after the holidays he could talk Terry into giving him a look into Ravenclaw, just to finish the comparison. Fat chance he'd be asking Quinn_. _That boy was still prattling on about something, probably about the chairs being too tall or something. He reluctantly turned back to his fellow students, and started to listen again.

"It can be parted," Hazel was saying, as Quinn poked at the table. "Prefects deem how to set it each day. Mostly, it's preferred this way. Gives us a wholeness there lacks elsewhere."

"It's really nice in here," Daniel said, sitting in front of one of the fires. "Fine family fun."

Hazel beamed, but Quinn glanced at him suspiciously, and shifted in his seat.

"Which of you knows more about potions?" he asked, taking some parchment out of his satchel. "Sasha says Snape marks holiday homework for more strictly than regular homework."

"What's the topic?" Hazel asked.

"What is this, a _study session_?" Daniel asked at the exact same time.

"Can't but help to go over some rudiments," Hazel said. "Potions get right convoluted later down."

"We have to categorise this entire list of ingredients," Quinn said, sharpening his quill diligently. "And — "

Daniel thought maybe he'd have been less bored on his own in Slytherin, pairing his socks, or washing his hair. He leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Hey!"

"Hrmph," Daniel said, turning his face away from the annoying voice.

All that had done was point his ear at it, though. "Wake up!" it said.

"Here now, Derek. No need for hollering."

"Yeah," Daniel agreed muzzily. "No need."

"Well he's not allowed to stay here, is he?"

"Get out of my face," Daniel snapped, opening his eyes.

The boy scooted back, and rose to his feet. "If you'd actually slept in a bed, I'd say you got out the wrong side of it," he declared snottily.

"Oh, for — "

"Derek Quinn," Hazel said from where she was sitting at that huge round table. "Did _you _be raised in a barn?"

Hah. Quinn even flushed a little, at that.

"What time is it?" Daniel asked, dragging himself to his feet.

"Gone eleven," Hazel said. "May be improprietous all night, else you could stay."

"Wouldn't want to be improprietous," Daniel said, and headed to the door, ignoring Quinn completely. "Thanks for the invite, Hazel, but if it's just going to be schoolwork, count me out for next time."

"Well, on tomorrow we'll see," Hazel said, getting up to show him out. She was looking pretty sleepy, herself.

"Am I supposed to walk all the way up to the Tower by myself? This late?"

"Oh, grow up," Daniel tossed over his shoulder. "If you're too scared to walk around the castle at night, next time go back to your nice warm bed_ before_ the witching hour."

"The what?" they both said.

Daniel, standing out in the corridor by this time, peered in at them. "You know," he said. "When the permanent spells around the castle get antsy, and start to spit out the weird stuff. You've got to be on your guard if you're going to wander around at night."

"That's a load of tripe," Quinn said, not sounding _entirely _sure of himself. "I think I'd have been informed if that were the case."

"Good night, Hazel," Daniel said, and set off for Slytherin.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"I was thinking more about the Boggart," Daniel said, once he'd settled down to pretend to read his history book. Snape was steadily slicing what looked like a pile of super-long Flumps, and putting all the bits into a simmering cauldron.

"I was not aware such creatures featured so prominently in the Discords of the late nineteenth century," Snape said. He hadn't sounded annoyed about being disturbed though, so Daniel went right ahead with what was on his mind.

"Well, they pick a form by reading your mind, right? They find your greatest fear, and turn into it?"

"You know this, Livingstone," Snape said, taking up a glass rod and starting to stir with one hand, taking up his wand in the other and waving it silently over the top. "What is your point?"

"Well, _you _said that Occlumency is about blocking your mind."

That got Snape looking up, even if it was only a brief glance. "Indeed," he said.

"So would that work on a Boggart?" Daniel asked. "If you blocked it off from your mind and it couldn't find anything you were afraid of, would it appear just as itself?"

"A Boggart cannot be expelled from one's mind. The magics are not congruent," Snape said, not sounding quite as blunt that time, but his attention still fixed on his potion of something or other.

"What if you just blocked up the bits with your real fears in them?" Daniel said. "Leave the rest, like a little fear of sharks or spiders or whatever. Because if there's not much fear it doesn't have much strength, so it should be easier to beat. Right?"

"The logic is straightforward," Snape said. "I refuse to believe you need me to verify it."

Daniel huffed. "Fine," he said. "Is it possible to block the Boggart's access to _parts _of your mind, even if it isn't possible to get rid of it altogether?"

"If you wish to discuss Occlumency, you would do best to wait until neither of us have more important tasks in front of us."

"This is hardly important," Daniel grumbled, slumping forward over the bench and kicking at his stool. "It's not like we're going to colonise India _again_. All that global magic stuff has been sorted out by now."

Snape turned up the flame without a hitch in his stirring, black eyes intent on his work.

"Unless aliens can do magic, I guess," Daniel said. "Have we ever thought about going into space? Muggles are pretty defenceless when it comes to aliens and stuff. I hope there's some wizards at NASA, or the planet's _doomed_. We don't even have phasers yet."

"Be quiet," Snape said, still perfectly calm. "Read your textbook."

Well. If he was going to be like _that._ Daniel turned his attention to the formation of the Subcontinental Committee, and was soon drowning in names and dates and regulations enough to make his eyes bleed. He certainly wasn't going to read aloud, not with Snape in the room, and any notes he took would make it obvious how little he understood.

It wasn't like magic was actually different in other countries, people just organised it differently. It was dumb to have forbidden traditional Indian magic, _in India_, just because it was all mixed up with their gods and stuff. Why bother memorising the Seven Concessions of 1899 or listing the three fundamental reasons that British magic _ultimately prevailed_ when it was plain as day that that Subcontinental Committee had their heads up their own rear ends and that was all there was to it?

"Having difficulties?" Snape said from somewhere nearby, jolting him out of his thoughts.

"It's dumb," Daniel said, looking up to see Snape out of his gloves, apparently finished brewing. "And it's boring."

"What is your assignment?"

Daniel shook his head, and the motion made his head start to ache. "Just an essay," he said. "Like always. When can we talk about … everything?"

"When you have shown me your plan for this essay, and I have judged it satisfactory," Snape declared, walking away again.

"That'll take _forever_," Daniel said, shoving his book away. "I haven't even done all the reading yet."

He got skewered, then. Maybe Snape had been storing up all his irritation, to use all at once.

"Whinging about _your own failure_ to stay up to date with your studies will _not_ avail you," Snape said sharply, whirling back to face him. "Your classwork is not currently at an adequate standard, and that _will _be remedied."

Yikes. "Can you at least answer my question about the Boggart? It's more like classwork than anything else. I did apologise to Hazel, and I spent time with her after. I even put up with that pissant Quinn all evening."

"No," Snape said. He didn't look as angry as he had a moment ago, even with how rude Daniel had been. Even so, Daniel wasn't going to risk arguing any further.

He hunched over his book, and kept reading.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"I don't _remember_."

"Look," Snape said, pointing at Daniel's own notes. His obvious restraint was making Daniel feel even dumber than it would if he'd just been scornful like usual. He _hated _it when people sat down with him and treated him like an idiot without giving him a way to leave.

"Okay, fine," he said, scribbling down that it had been _Allan Octavian Hume_ who had lobbied the Ministry of Magic for an investigation into corruption in the Committee. He took a deep breath. "And they couldn't ignore it because he, uh — "

Snape just waited, like always. Daniel searched his notes for any earlier mentions of Hume. "Because he'd been part of the Muggle government?"

"He was a civil servant, yes," Snape said.

"But that makes him less impressive. I mean, a wizard working as a Muggle? The book made it sound like he didn't even go to Hogwarts. That doesn't sound like something that would impress the Ministry."

"The dual nature of his employment gave him a unique position, one of both knowledge and influence," Snape said, drumming his fingers thoughtfully on the table.

It was unfair how people could just come up with that stuff, basically off the top of their heads. It wasn't just adults, either. Granger did it all the time, and Terry got that way sometimes as well. Sometimes it didn't even sound like the same language as what Daniel spoke.

"So I just say that he had friends all over India, Muggles and wizards both, and obviously knew what he was talking about?"

Snape's eyes flickered down to his parchment. "Indeed," he said, after a moment's pause. Daniel knew what _that _meant. It meant Snape knew a better way of putting it, but wasn't going to say so. How very _tactful _of him.

"Why wouldn't a wizard go to Hogwarts, then? It's not like he had no money. Politicians are always rolling in it."

"Allan Hume was a squib, Livingstone," Snape said.

"Oh," Daniel said. That was pretty impressive, for a squib to do all that stuff. "Why doesn't it just say so?"

"This is a Ministry-sanctioned textbook."

"Oh," Daniel said. Then he understood. "They're embarrassed to have been shown up by a squib, so they just don't mention that he was one? That's stupid."

"The more things change," Snape said wryly. "What further points do you need to address?"

"I don't know," Daniel groaned. "Can I finish it later?"

"You have done quite well," Snape said. Daniel stared at him disbelievingly. "I recommend completing your draft now. Do I need to mention your remarkable aptitude for procrastination?"

"Apparently," Daniel muttered, dipping his quill in the inkwell.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Nothing sucked the life out of Livingstone like some quality time with his books. The boy brimming with conjecture about the applications of Occlumency and nonsense about extraterrestrial life was now slumped back in Snape's armchair, eyes half-closed and listless. Snape hadn't asked how the boy had slept, but he'd wager it hadn't been well.

"The question of using Occlumency against a Boggart is an interesting one," Snape said, feeling generous enough to open the conversation for him. "In the vast majority of cases, it is simpler and more effective to simply cast _riddikulus_."

"My _question_," Livingstone said stiffly, "was if the Occlumency would work."

"So it was," Snape said. "My answer is that I expect it to be possible. I do not know for certain."

Livingstone looked up at him, eyes suspicious. Snape didn't make a habit of admitting ignorance in any area, but the boy shouldn't be _that _surprised his knowledge wasn't exhaustive. Though considering Livingstone's general knowledge, most people must seem like geniuses.

"Have you not yet spoken to Lupin to arrange another lesson?" Snape asked.

"You're meant to be _telling _me stuff," Livingstone said, with a markedly childish pout.

No point in getting the child aggravated, Snape supposed, though his patience was starting to fade. "What is your question?"

"I want to know everything you know about my parents that could have led to this stupid thing," Livingstone said, gesturing vaguely at his own chest.

Very opportune, how their interests dovetailed so neatly. "May I see?" Snape said.

"I can't take it off," Livingstone said as though it were the most imbecilic thing Snape could possibly have said. "I told you that ages ago."

"It can do you no good to continue wearing it," Snape said, only to be interrupted by a surprisingly fervent Livingstone.

"You don't know that!" he cried, jerking upright in his seat. "For all you know, it's all that's keeping me alive!"

Snape stared at him. "What in the name of Zosimos makes you say that?" he asked, careful to convert his surprise to scorn on its way out. Irrationality was one thing, but a claim like that was sheer insanity.

"Who's Zosimos?" the boy asked, suddenly docile again, and rueful to boot. Utterly transparent.

"Do you retain any sentimental attachment to the item?" Snape asked.

"Nope," Livingstone said. If not for his outburst not one minute earlier, Snape might even have believed him.

"Take it out," Snape instructed, watching him closely.

He got a glare in return. "You said don't touch it," Livingstone said. "It'll warp my brain again if I do."

"Pull it up by the chain." Did he have to walk the wretched child through every thought process?

"I don't want to," Livingstone said, crossing his arms. "You said we'd be talking about my parents. _Talking_."

Undercurrents were starting to swirl in ominous ways. "You allowed me contact with it earlier in the year," Snape pointed out.

"Stuff changes," Livingstone said sourly.

Such profundity, from one so young. It appeared that the damned necklace had its tendrils into Livingstone yet again. Or still. Whether it was magic or simple psychology, Livingstone remained attached.

And fatigued, and out of sorts after being forced through that essay, after at least one night of disturbed sleep. Snape had perhaps been a _little_ overconfident when it came to the boy's complaisance. It was time for simple facts, and the fact was that Livingstone had been deeply distressed to learn of the effects of the necklace, and presumably remained so.

"If you will refuse to so much as show me your necklace, Livingstone, I will be forced to conclude that it is again influencing your mind," he declared.

That didn't get to Livingstone the way Snape had expected it to. In fact, he saw a trace of a smirk dancing around the boy's lips. "Conclude what you like," he said. "It has nothing to do with our deal."

"That is _incorrect_," Snape said. Insolence from students was always infuriating, but combined with ingratitude it was intolerable. "You have requested information about your parents, _as it relates to your necklace_."

"I didn't say you'd be getting your hands on it again," Livingstone said. "I want you to explain what they were like so _I _can work things out for myself. You make me do that for everything else, so I don't see how you can start complaining now."

There were a great many things Livingstone did not see. Snape was tempted to begin listing them in minute detail. He settled for simmering openly, letting Livingstone come to his own conclusions.

The boy watched him, eyes a little wary, but not at all repentant.

"Livingstone," Snape said, laying his hands firmly on the table. "Why do you not want me to see your necklace?"

Livingstone's eyes narrowed, and his head tilted back a little. Snape watched as the boy wondered about Snape's motivations, and considered the possible answers he could give. It was good to see one of his Slytherins so thorough in his deliberations, and Livingstone was no exception. Of course, the boy was far too preoccupied with that to give serious thought to the _question_.

One step at a time, Snape reminded himself. One step at a time.

"It's not your business," Livingstone replied. "I can — it's fine."

He could what? If Livingstone was experimenting with the thing, Snape would tear his innards out and feed them to Lupin's damnable Grindylow. As if the boy hadn't caused enough trouble recently.

"My _parents_," Livingstone said, his voice a little unsteady. "You haven't answered my question yet, and if you're going back on the deal then so will I. I'll _un_apologise to Hazel, I'll do whatever the hell I want in the holidays, I'll rip up the goddamn homework, I'll — "

"I am your head of house, Livingstone," Snape said, nearing the end of his tether. "Everything you have promised as part of this _deal_, I am well within my rights to demand from you in such a capacity, without having to surrender any of my own time or information. It is _you _who will lose the most from the dissolution of our agreement, and I am frankly _appalled_ that you cannot see this for yourself."

"Well I guess that's what you're for, isn't it," Livingstone said bitterly. "Here to show me how stupid I am, boss me around, act like you have a right to my personal possessions, my bedtime, my social life, my magic, my —"

With Livingstone about to blow his top, Snape took a moment to settle his own as firmly as possible before interrupting the tirade.

"You _asked _me, you thoughtless child. You requested my aid, and then agreed, under no duress, to a proposal I put to you. To shout at me in such a circumstance is near the height of stupidity, certainly."

Livingstone opened his mouth again, then shut it with a snap. He wasn't beyond all reason, it seemed. Nor suicidal.

"Fine," he said. "Whatever. I'm an idiot. I know that. Doesn't mean you can't do as you agreed and tell me about my parents. If you wanted to see the necklace so much, you should have included it in the deal. And that's that."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He hadn't _meant _to rave at Snape like that. But how hard could it really be to give him some damn facts about his parents, as promised. Daniel had been the model of studiousness or whatever that morning _and _afternoon, and all Snape could do is obsess over the one thing Daniel had under control.

And now Snape was sitting there staring, not bothering to even respond to the nice little speech Daniel had delivered. Daniel braced himself and stared at the stare, wondering what the man could possibly be thinking to produce that expression that was slightly amused, unsettled and smug all at once.

"You said my father wasn't any good at defending his mind," he said. It was the one fact he had, from back when Snape had been willing to share. He had a bit more information since then, from corners of his brain he'd had to fight into fitness. It would be educational to see if Snape would give him the same.

Snape nodded. "That is true," he said. "He was quick to see weakness in others, but utterly oblivious to his own."

Daniel had to remind himself to start breathing again. He had proper parents he knew heaps about. This was just information. If he was going to understand all the stuff he'd found in the necklace last night, he'd need as much of it as possible.

Snape was frowning again. "Do you remember when Mr. Nott asked your name in the hospital wing?" he asked.

Trying to railroad the conversation again? Well, just let him try. "Do you have any idea how Blaise Zabini knows my _name_?" he retorted.

That hit him, Daniel could tell. In fact, it made him properly angry. More angry than even when Daniel had been whinging at him just before. It didn't seem to be directed at Daniel, so he just waited for an answer.

"He has not attempted any further intimidation in that regard?" Snape asked.

"You still don't know who attacked either of us?" Daniel said, unable to stop himself from continuing the cycle of questions.

Snape's nostrils flared. Too far, then. "Did they look like me, then?" he asked, and wished he'd just asked a stupid one like that to begin with.

"Somewhat," Snape said. Daniel was surprised he'd let the subject change just like that. "You have many of your mother's features, though she was darker and more sturdily built."

"Was she _fat_?" Daniel asked, then could have kicked himself. He'd never really thought that his parents might be ugly, or short, or fat. Anyway, if she'd been fat, Snape would probably have just said so.

Snape snorted, then sneered. Seems like the doltish question had dragged him back to normal.

"_She_ was not overweight, Livingstone," he said. "_You _are scrawny."

Yeah, he should definitely leave Snape room for more personal remarks. They cheered the man up no end. Probably because he was such a fine physical specimen himself.

Ha.

"What about my father, then?" Daniel asked, to keep the laughter down.

"Your father was as tall as the headmaster, and twice as broad," Snape said. "I am not in a position to know if there is still hope for you to reach his dimensions, since I met him as an adult."

It was going to be hard, now, to ask questions about which one had been more involved in the necklace without Snape getting all spiteful and unhelpful and maybe completely and utterly furious. He had a feeling any questions he had about Legilimency were going to be turned back on him as well. "Older than you, then," he said to fill the silence.

"Your mother was fourteen years older than I," Snape volunteered. Funny, how he was full to the brim of handy information _now_. Daniel started to suspect he was being softened up for something. "Your father was a little younger, but still far too old for me to have known at school."

"What was my mother like then?"

Snape waited for a long while before answering. Which just meant he was thinking of loads of stuff he didn't want Daniel to know. Daniel squashed his frustration, and waited.

"Intelligent," Snape said eventually. "Devious. Resolute."

"My father?"

A shorter wait, that time. "Fearless. Vigorous. … Creative."

That painted a pretty clear picture, in Daniel's mind at least. He did wonder, though, what had been going through Snape's head all that time that he'd decided he _couldn't_ tell Daniel about.

"Neither of them anything like me, then," he said, trying to smile.

Snape made a meaningless kind of a noise. "One's upbringing has a profound impact on one's identity," he said abruptly.

"No kidding," Daniel said. "Well, with my parents who did the most of the plans? From the sound of it, my mother was more likely to. You know, this whole plan about distracting the Dark Lord and setting up their own deaths."

He wasn't fooling Snape by not mentioning the necklace, but he didn't care. They were at the part that mattered, and right then he didn't care what Snape _thought _of him.

"I expect it was very much a joint effort," Snape said. "Your parents were at their strongest together, and by the time I knew them, did very little alone."

They'd followed the Dark Lord, even been close to him. They'd probably pulled all kinds of crap in his name. But they'd loved each other, apparently, and their son, and turned on their old boss in the end.

The question burned at his gut for a long while before he could put words to it. Even as he asked it, he thought it might be one question too far.

"Why did they change their minds?"

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

It was possible, of course, that Livingstone didn't categorically _know_ that Snape himself had been a Death Eater. Just as it was possible Idris and Adara Seaver had simultaneously had changes of heart and sought to atone, sacrificing themselves on the altar of goodness and light.

Either way, it had taken real nerve to ask a question like that. And the boy wasn't backing down afterwards, either.

"I do not know," Snape said. "I was not made privy."

Livingstone accepted that, looking simultaneously disappointed and relieved. "I think I should go to dinner," he said.

"Ten o'clock tomorrow, if you wish," Snape said. He would have to think over strategies to get Livingstone to open up about the necklace.

Livingstone sighed, and got to his feet, slinging his bag over his shoulder like it weighed a hundred pounds. "Thanks," he muttered as he got to the door. "See you later, I guess."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel did more schoolwork over the next four days than he'd managed in the last two months. So much for a _holiday_. Snape was … helpful, he supposed, once Daniel got used to the casual disdain and the ridiculous words he used. He didn't harp on about the necklace any more, but Daniel could tell he thought about it.

It wasn't necessary, though. Since Daniel had fixed up all the parts of his mind it had affected, he'd thought maybe he could do something similar while actually listening. He'd tried first the night before the big talk with Snape, and it had been easy to feelthe way it edged into his thoughts, and stop it in its tracks. It had been odd, holding the pendant in his hand in absolute silence, but soothing at the same time.

It tempted him to try and push himself into the magic of the necklace. There wasn't much of a way in unless he let it into his mind to begin with, and he didn't want to do too much of that. Stopping it was easy enough, but he wasn't sure he'd be able to reverse any prolonged effect it had on him.

But he had to find a way to take it off, and that meant finding out everything he could about it. So he kept at it, deep into the night. Sometimes, when he was checking himself over to make sure it hadn't done anything to him, he got the strangest feeling that if he just turned his head quickly, or closed his eyes then opened them in a hurry, he'd find something new.

He wasn't sleeping all that well, but it wasn't too bad. He got a couple of hours during the day on Snape's say-so, and could usually manage a few every night as well. Waking up wasn't getting any easier, but he kept his wand close to hand and the terror faded quickly enough.

His biggest problem was how empty the castle was, and how empty it made him feel. He spent so much time with Snape not because he needed to get work done, or because the enjoyed hanging out with his head of house, but because if he didn't, he'd go mad from the isolation. He'd hang out with Hazel more, but Quinn was stuck to her like glue, and was completely insufferable, all the time.

By Christmas Eve he was counting down the days until school went back, but unlike every single other time in his life, he was wishing the time would pass more quickly. He didn't know how he was going to last a whole week after Christmas, not if things stayed as they were. He'd crack, surely.

On Christmas Eve he was having more trouble sleeping than usual. He'd been thinking unhappy thoughts about Christmas away from home, and what all his friends would be doing in the morning. The thought of Christmas alone was such a downer that he drew himself away from it, deep into his own mind. He threw himself wholeheartedly into nailing down that evasive haunting at the edges of his mind, just to be doing _something_.

He spent what felt like hours poking at walls, jumping at shadows, feinting and dodging his way around. No matter what he did, the feeling kept slipping away from him, like he was chasing his own tail. Then, on what he'd decided would be his last attempt, he drew almost all the way out of his mind, darted back in, and came face to face, or thought to thought, with … nothing.

He threw himself away from it in unthinking horror, his head only just missing the corner of the table he'd dragged up next to the couch. He slammed all kinds of walls up around his mind, watched the lamps glow dimly and listened to the crackle of the fire until his heart slowed down and his thoughts could settle.

Obliviate, he supposed. He hadn't thought he'd ever be able to find evidence of it. From what he'd heard, the spell was supposed to be a bit more subtle than just blanking out sections of the brain.

The thought of investigating further made him sick. It was horrible, and wrong, and he just couldn't face it. He'd just been getting comfortable in his own brain, however weird an idea that sounded, and finding concrete evidence of how damaged it was ripped away most of that security. He dragged himself back up onto the couch and lay back, exhausted enough to fall asleep without another thought.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The presents in a small pile by the fire staved off the worst of his panic when he first opened his eyes. But then, once he'd woken up fully, they pissed him off thoroughly. Christmas, alone. What he wouldn't give for just one phone call, right now.

With a sick jolt to his stomach, he realised that his parents hadn't known how to send him any presents. They'd only ever answered letters he'd given them. He hadn't been _planning_ to stay at Hogwarts for holidays. Ever. He'd assumed they would understand when he had nothing for them, since they weren't supposed to be in contact with him, but he hadn't quite realised it worked the other way as well.

He forced all that out of his mind and went to sit by the five presents he had on the floor. He picked up the biggest one, about the size of a hatbox. The note on it read:

_Hi Daniel._

_ I was going shopping for Christmas presents for everyone, and I got this before you without even thinking about how we've been lately. It made me realise how stupid this thing about Anthony and me is. Just because he's fighting with his friends doesn't mean I have to abandon all mine._

_ Don't worry about not getting anything for me, if you haven't. I haven't been any real kind of a friend to you. When we get back from holidays I'll tell Anthony that my friends are still my friends, and maybe we can talk again._

_ Merry Christmas_

_ Turnip_

The last couple of years, she'd given him things that were kind of in-jokes from school. This year, she'd given him an enormously tall, purple-and-silver wizard's hat, complete with crescent moons and wands with stars on the end. He stared at it for a moment, kind of in shock at the gaudiness of the thing, then put it up on a table and out of sight.

_Mister Livingstone_

_ Merry Thing. Home is alright, Ed says hey but the APs think you're a terrible influence and won't admit you exist. Hope you haven't had any more faints, I don't want you following me around everywhere again. Wouldn't want to make Draco too jealous._

_ Give Snape a trick cigar or something from me. Only don't say it's from me, I don't think I could bear the gratitude. Mostly just enjoy your present. Wait until I get back before you do stuff to it though._

_ Theodore Nott: SDM, KoW, MIA_

_P.S. I heard Pansy say Draco asked his father about inviting you to Christmas, but he wouldn't have any of it. Better be on your guard, who knows what he'll think of next._

Theo's present was a model Batmobile about a foot long, sleek, black, and awesome. Daniel had no idea how he might have found it, but it perked him up a little. Christmas couldn't be that bad with Batman. Maybe later he could get out some of his Transformers and see what kind of a party he could spell up. Theo couldn't be serious. He thought Daniel would _wait_ to charm a Batmobile? Ridiculous.

_Daniel,_

_ Seamus thinks we shouldn't send this to you together, even though I'm over at his for Christmas and I didn't think to get you anything of my own. He thinks a joint gift makes us an old married couple. I told him I didn't remember any ceremony, but maybe we should get a third in just to guarantee that he's wrong._

_ He took it in totally the wrong way, and suggested Michael Corner. Help!_

_ Merry Christmas, mate. I heard you're stuck at Hogwarts, what's up with that? You should have said something. I've already opened my house up to pond scum, a Slytherin isn't too steep a step down. Anything would be better than to be stuck with just him all the time. The more the merrier, y'know._

_ SEE WHAT I MEAN? I mean, yeah, Merry Christmas. Stay out of our marriage._

_Seamus and Dean_

_Dean and__ Seamus and Dean_

Daniel unwrapped the little box. It was a pack of cards, with the packaging loudly declaring they were Self-Shuffling! Unriggable! A Delight to Deal! Fun For All the Family!

Daniel wasn't sure what the point was of a pack of cards you couldn't rig, but liked the present anyway.

The next present's label just said _I got you this, bitch, _with nothing but the handwriting to give it away. Terry was terrible at presents. Daniel wasn't surprised to open this one and find a bag of fudge and a shiny green lollipop.

Draco's present didn't even have a note. Just Daniel's name, in Draco's handwriting. Having opened the rest, Daniel couldn't put it off any more. He unwrapped it carefully, all Theo's teasing about Draco making him far more flustered than he really should be.

Or maybe not. Draco had given him a slim pair of grey-green gloves, made out of an impossibly soft material. _Tap all fingers together for fingerless, wrists for fingers back, _Draco had scrawled on a scrap of parchment.

They were nice. Probably useful, too. But Daniel had a nasty suspicion they matched his eyes perfectly.


	26. Christmas

When it got to eleven thirty Daniel reluctantly got dressed in proper pants and a buttoned shirt. Snape had described the Christmas dinner as "a festive gathering intended to induce camaraderie and raise the spirits of staff and students alike", before telling Daniel he had no choice but to go, and not to arrive later than midday if he valued his autonomy, whatever that was.

So he went up, trying to look like he wanted to be there. He was faced straight away with the choice of sitting next to Snape, or to Quinn. Quinn had Dumbledore on the other side of him, so Daniel chose the lesser of two evils and sat down next to his head of house. He realised as soon as he had that that meant he had to _look _at the headmaster all the time, but it was too late to change his mind.

The only good part of the whole two hours was the constant bitch-fighting between McGonagall and Trelawney, once she bothered to show up. However much of a harpy McGonagall was, when she got scathing she was almost as entertaining as Snape. And with Trelawney right in between the two of them saying stuff so moronic it was begging to be shat on, it was almost as good as TV.

Once it was over, and Trelawney had chucked a fit over Potter and Weasley being about to die, Daniel made his way right back down to the common room before Snape could finagle anything resembling work out of him.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He hadn't been able to work the right kind of magic back in first year. But he was heaps better now, and if Theo thought they could pimp out the model Batmobile, then there was no reason Daniel couldn't do the same to his old Transformers.

He reached down into the bottom of his trunk, where he kept his most Muggle-ish stuff. He grabbed out Skywarp and Thundercracker from where they were wrapped in his Swansea City scarf, and the thoroughly roughed-up Prowl, who had fallen out of it.

He was fishing around for Jazz when his fingers hit something cool and hard, and smooth. He pulled his hand back automatically. There wasn't anything like that in there that _he'd _put in, he was sure of it.

He sat back and started to empty the trunk from top to bottom, wand in one hand ready to deal with whatever prank his roommates had set up for him.

He uncovered a small square mirror resting on a couple of books he had never seen before in his life. Without touching them, he turned his head sideways to read the titles along the spine. A book on Gurn's Fifth Law, whatever that was, as well as one on partial transfiguration. Looked like someone was using his trunk to hide —

He glanced over his shoulder, obeying some nameless urge. Then he looked back at the books and the mirror, and had to close his eyes to stop constantly looking out the sides of them.

He raised his wand, and pointed it at his trunk. "_Finite_ _Incantatem_," he said firmly, opening his eyes as he did so. Nothing happened, and he still had that slippery feeling that there was something really, really obvious he was missing.

He firmed up his mind automatically and reached out to pull one of the books out from under the mirror. A thinner book slipped out as he did, with a drawing of a grinning young wizard on the front, winking at him over and over again.

Maybe it was a message from somebody, he thought, turning the heavy book over in his hands, wand resting carefully on his lap. He was pretty good at transfiguration, but he didn't know what anyone would have to gain by hiding extra textbooks in his trunk. He supposed it was might have been something he'd done in that lost week. But it was hardly like he was keen on extra schoolwork, especially not doorstopper books like these two.

Tempted by something he didn't quite understand, he put the book down and picked up the mirror, his other hand closing cautiously around his wand. He stared into the mirror, and found himself looking pale, with bags under his eyes he wasn't used to seeing, and hair barely managing to fall into his eyes.

He found himself opening his mouth. What he'd been going to say, he had no idea. He drew his right hand back from where it had been hovering near the mirror and flicked instead through the Trivialities of Transfiguration book. He tried to relax and look through his mind, even though he knew he'd never be able to get through the damn memory charm.

It didn't _feel _like he was hitting a wall of nothing. More like things were slipping away from him as he got close to them. Even so, he was afraid to look closely at them. He didn't want anything more to do with that void for as long as he lived.

He shoved the books into the corner of the couch, set the mirror carefully next to them, and tried to shake his brain back into working order. He kept emptying out his trunk to find Jazz, just putting everything else out of his mind. Once he found him he set the models on the table next to the Batmobile and gave them a bit of a clean over with his wand.

"Hey," a hoarse voice said from somewhere in the room.

With a jolt, Daniel grabbed his wand, turned, and got ready to dodge like never before.

The room was completely empty, but that didn't mean much.

"Emanio pulvis," he said in as firm a voice as he could manage, waving his wand out in a wide arc. The glittering blue particles the spell produced swept across the room, all settling on the floor without hitting anything Daniel couldn't already see himself.

He wished so hard at that moment he could cast the Reveliothat was for any living beings, but he couldn't even get the human-only one right yet, so there was no point in even trying.

"That's a neat spell," the voice said, deep and rough, and with a sinking feeling Daniel dropped his gaze to the mirror sitting on the couch. The thoughts in his mind started to rattle against each other, nudging him in every direction at once.

He latched onto a train of thought, unable to completely detach from everything as his brain went haywire.

A face in a mirror, pale and gaunt. His own face in the mirror, exhausted and confused. An illustrated wizard, winking and waving his wand around. A dark green leather-bound book about partial transfigurations. Babbling's slightly suspicious look before she'd signed a piece of paper in front of her. Vaguely familiar scribbled handwriting at the end of a chapter of something. Snape's red ink all over the first draft of his Astronomy essay. _"Stupefy. Obliviate. Confundus"_.Daphne, peering out through a barely-open door.

"It leaves trails of memory, that's the worst part."

"Anniversaries, you know. Seemed right."

"_Impedimenta. Crucio._"

A burst of laughter, that halfway through, became a joyous bark. A rainy day, a moment of freedom when things had been getting too much to bear.

"Fuck! Listen!_ Wake up, you stupid pissweak Slytherin prat!_"

Black was right up close to the mirror, voice hoarse but strong. Daniel stared at him, then had to sit down in a hurry.

"Okay, look up here," Black said, like he was talking to a particularly slow five year old child. "Seriously, what's the matter?"

Daniel got up and sat on the couch. Then he stared at Black, incapable of putting a single thought into words.

"I thought you'd gone home for the holidays," Black said. "But this looks like a Slytherin common room to _me_."

Daniel nodded vaguely, the words hardly registering in his mind.

"You'd better talk to me soon, or I'll have to shout at you again. And that _hurts_ damn it. I should do more vocal exercises." Black snorted.

"Shhhhh," Daniel said. He couldn't think properly with the man blathering on like that.

After a while, things started to make sense again. He turned to the mirror to see Black staring at him gravely. "I went up there to get the rat," Daniel told him, as soon as the idea firmed in his mind. "I must have. No other reason…"

"I told you _not _to!" Black shouted, making Daniel jump. "Is that why you've somehow turned into an Inferius? You went up to the Tower, even after I said you didn't have to? What's he _done_?"

"I don't know," Daniel said, but Black was too busy yelling to listen.

"If you were planning on going up, why the _hell _did you shut me out like that? I thought we were getting on okay. Didn't I _say _I wanted to help you? What was I supposed to think, you vanishing without a trace after you said —"

"Hey," Daniel said, louder that time. "Don't go talking to me like I have a clue what you're talking about, because I don't. I think I remember about you properly now, but obviously not everything. So stop screaming at me, and try listening for once in your life."

"I _listen_," Black said, and Daniel almost laughed at the petulant comeback. "Forgive me for not knowing what the hell is going on."

Daniel could sympathise with that. "Sorry for not talking to you for a while," he said. "I completely forgot you existed."

Black snorted. "Right," he said. "Pull the other one, why don't you?"

It would probably be best if he just explained to Black what had happened. If only he _could_. "Merry Christmas, by the way," he said instead, remembering.

"Christmas, is it?" Black asked with a pained laugh. "Marvellous."

There was a short silence. Daniel had no idea why he'd brought up Christmas, of all things, to an escaped convict who couldn't have had a proper Christmas for at least twelve years.

"I lost five days of my life," he said, not knowing any other way to start the explanation. "I woke up in Gryffindor Tower out of the blue, and they found out someone had cast a memory charm on me that went back days."

"I've known you for more than days, you realise," Black said, sounding peeved.

"Yeah, I realise," Daniel said. "But I copped a Confundus charm as well, as well as some stuff I don't even know what it does. So I forgot, until all this reminded me. I thought I was telling the truth when I told them there was no reason for me to be up there."

"I'm sorry," Black said thickly. "I should never have asked it of you."

The last thing he wanted was to have Black break down and cry, but he sounded close to doing just that. "If things need doing," the man was muttering, "you do them yourself. Never _learn…_"

"I'd like to know about this rat, please," Daniel said, forcing gallons of courtesy into his voice.

"No!" Black said with a fierce glare. "You'll keep your nose out, as of now!"

"_Bullshit_ I will," Daniel snapped. "Trying to help you, I took a bloody Crucio, and lost a week of my life, and any peace of mind I had left, and if you think I'm just going to _forget _this and move on, you're out of your fucking _mind!_ Tell me what the fuck this is, or I'll go straight to Snape and turn your sorry arse the _fuck_ in!"

"No," Black said, his face gone utterly blank. "I won't. I may be a complete failure as a human being, but I'm not, ever again, going to let anyone take my fall for me." His face fell into a sadness way past tears, and he closed his eyes.

Fine. If it was all about guilt, Daniel would give him guilt.

"You _have_ to tell me," he said, not bothering to hide an inch of the frustration he was feeling. "If you don't tell me I'll just keep on not knowing, and wondering. I can't hardly sleep, you know. I get two hours, maybe three tops, and then I wake up in a cold sweat, wondering where I am _this _time, wondering if I've been Obliviated _again_, maybe tortured some more, you know, the _usual_. And if I did it for you, like you yourself say, then it's your fault for as long as it lasts. So tell me."

Black smiled ruefully, his eyes still closed. "I'm already full to the brim with guilt," he said. "No offence intended to you, but I just don't have room left for much more."

Daniel's jaw started to hurt, he was keeping it clenched so tight. Otherwise, he'd be mouthing off about the Potters and the Dark Lord, and there'd be no coming back from an accusation like _that_.

"Well I'll stop wasting your time then," he said, and flipped the mirror down to face the seat of the couch.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

In a fit of maudlin festivity Daniel put on the gaudy hat, and the gloves from Draco in fingerless mode, and stuck the lollipop from Terry in his mouth. It tasted like lightning, if that was even possible. Incredibly sharp, and fierce, and mouth-watering, but with no actual flavour he recognised. He grabbed the cards from the table and lay down in front of the fire, watching the girl on the back of the cards doing flawless sleight of hand, exactly the same on every single card.

He passed his Christmas evening building card towers and sending the Batmobile ramming through them with flicks of his wand, over and over again. The cards didn't even get dented.

By midnight he was flat on his back on the couch, stuffing his mouth with fudge and trying to fly both Skywarp and Thundercracker around the ceiling at the same time. The cards were left scattered on the floor, and he had the hat over his feet, which were sticking up over the armrest.

Mostly, he could get the two fighter jets to fly okay in the same direction, as long as they were right next to each other. It was when he tried to deal with them individually that the charm started to break up, and the nosedives started.

"Hey," the mirror said. Daniel groaned, and let the planes float slowly to the ground.

"_What_?_" _Daniel refused to look.

"You busy?"

"Lonely, are you?" Daniel scoffed. "Feeling deprived of my spectacular company? I don't especially want to talk to you."

"I've got something to tell you," Black said.

"That's nice."

"You'll love it," Black insisted, outrageously confident.

"As much as I love torture and memory loss?"

"Almost," Black said.

Daniel snorted despite himself.

"It's the best peace offering you're going to get," Black said. "You know the tapestry with the dancing trolls on the seventh floor?"

"Nope," Daniel said, levitating the hat off his feet, sitting up, and letting it fall back on his head. "I'm a dungeon-dweller, remember? And I don't take bloody Divination."

"Good for you," Black said, grinning approvingly. Daniel suspected he was drunk again. "Well opposite that tapestry there's a room, but you won't be able to see it at first. You walk back and forwards in front of that blank wall, thinking about what you need, and it'll appear right in front of you."

"Really," Daniel said. How was Black finding the booze in the first place? He was _supposed_ to be the subject of an enormous manhunt.

"Handy for the odd rendezvous, if you know what I mean," Black said with a sly wink. "Among other things."

"And that makes up for everything, I suppose," Daniel said, rolling his eyes. "I learn about another room in the castle, and everything else just floats away."

"I'm saying, if anything can help you, this room might," Black said earnestly. "It gives you what you need. By definition, it's worth its while, and not that many people know about it."

Well, that sounded absolutely too good to be true. But still, if he'd learned anything from over two years with wizards, it was that even the most crazy-sounding ideas could be pulled off, given enough time and thought. He tried to push down his growing hope, but didn't do much of a job of it.

"So merry Christmas!" Black declared, grinning like a loon. "I couldn't possibly outdo your beau chapeau as a gift, but I've tried."

"My what?"

"The hat," Black said, laughing. "I assume you didn't buy it for yourself?"

"Nope," Daniel said, grinning despite himself. Black clearly had some kind of terrible power, and Daniel just could not stay angry with him, however many dozens of excellent reasons he had to.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The Wolfsbane was a professionally satisfying potion to brew, as potions went. It was complex, nuanced and quite visually appealing, and if Snape weren't brewing it for a resident of the castle in which he himself lived, and a thoroughly vile human being — if the creature could even be considered such — he would be quite enjoying himself.

It was a shame Livingstone hadn't a whit of academic curiosity. A whole week he'd spent studying in Snape's office, not twenty feet away from the simmering Wolfsbane, and not once had he so much as acknowledged its existence, though he'd touched on nigh on every other subject known to mankind in his attempts to avoid working.

Snape had never thought he would be in the position again to become intimately acquainted with Muggle culture. Not that he'd been especially immersed in their culture, even as a child. Certainly not to the extent Livingstone was. The way that boy talked, one could be forgiven for thinking he _was _a Muggle.

He had shown his face grudgingly at the appalling Christmas dinner, as instructed, and had vanished soon after. That gave Snape the peace and quiet required for the delicate last stages of the Wolfsbane, and kept him insulated from any fits of homesickness the boy might end up throwing.

Snape had never cared much for Christmas. Perhaps because he'd never experienced one full of love, family and whatever else it was that made otherwise rational people suddenly overflow with mawkish sentiments and overpriced trinkets.

He checked on the moonstones, tested the consistency with four _silver_ prods, just for the irony, and added three more inch-long pieces of blending strap. Satisfied all was in order, he moved across to his desk to mark papers for the two hours remaining until it was time for the final stage of the potion.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel felt like maybe he should put off checking out the room Black had told him about, but he just absolutely could not. He barely made it to seven o'clock on Boxing Day before he was rushing up staircase after staircase to get to the seventh floor. Once he was up there he asked the nearest painting, a little boy with a quiff and a lisp, where he could find the tapestry with the dancing trolls.

He paced anxiously next to it, glancing every so often at the bare white wall opposite it. If Black had lied to him about this, Daniel would smash the mirror, go straight to Snape and tell him he'd been attacked by a massive black dog on the grounds. He'd like to see how far Black could run before he was taken the hell down.

He glanced at the wall again, and stopped dead. He looked around himself furtively, then stepped closer, reaching out to touch the plain cream-coloured door.

He thought for a moment about traps, and Dark Lords, and mysterious corridor attackers. Then he opened the door, and it was his _room._

He quickly closed the door after him and drew in a long, slow breath. As he let it out, he finally, _finally_ could relax_._ He walked over and hoisted the pile of twisted bedding back onto his bed, then kicked a path through the clothes on the ground so he could go and open the window.

He had no idea how the magic worked, but somehow with the window open a chilly breeze made its way into the room, along with the sound of James from next door making godawful noises that he supposed was meant to be violin practice.

He shut the window again, and turned back. To his _room._

Without any more thought he kicked off his shoes and let himself collapse onto the bed. He had a vague feeling that he should be setting his alarm, or at least straightening the blanket, but he could hearsomeone washing dishes down the other end of the house, and it completely undid him.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He woke up with his sheets and blankets and everything back on the floor, his pillow down at his feet somehow, but not even feeling the cold.

He rolled over to catch a glimpse of his clock, and was pleasantly surprised to see it was only eight o'clock. He could probably sleep in for a few more hours, it being holidays and all.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel loved Sirius Black. He wandered along the seventh floor, carefully avoiding getting too close to Gryffindor Tower, feeling alive for the first time in what felt like months. When he heard a grinding noise one of the staircases down to the sixth floor he dashed to catch it, and _whooped _as it swung around to connect to the other side of the gap.

He jumped off as it jammed into place, just like jumping off an escalator right at the end. He set off again, whistling, but was nearly bowled over by a rampaging Granger marching up behind him.

"Hey," he said. "Watch it, missy."

"Missy!" Granger said, drawing herself up and glaring at him. "I hardly think that's an appropriate form of address!"

"This is called jeans and a t-shirt," Daniel said, feeling helpful. "I don't really wear dresses, as a rule."

She huffed. "I meant don't call me that," she said. "What are you doing up here, anyway?" She glared at him suspiciously.

Daniel shrugged. "Gallivanting, mostly," he said. "What are _you _doing walking around without your boy toys?"

That hurt her. Daniel could tell, because instead of snapping at him, she jerked back and blinked. He felt guilty, then. He hadn't meant it to hurt. Maybe the faithful friends from Gryffindor had actually had a proper fight, and she was out on her ear.

"I have work to do in the library," she said, regaining most of her poise. "Some people consider Christmas presents more important."

"Well no shit," Daniel said, wondering if she had any feelings at all apart from the ones that just made her unbearable. Was she even a real person? "It's the holidays. You know, fun instead of work?"

Her glare _almost_ made him step away from her. Almost. "Some things are more important than _fun_!" she said. "Some things should matter more than games, and pride, and … and racing brooms!"

Perhaps she was actually insane, and he should be finding a teacher. Best try to calm her first, though.

"I hate Quidditch too," he said, sounding as friendly as he could.

"I don't hate Quidditch!" she shrieked.

That time, Daniel did step back. "Okay," he said. "Okay, well, that's good then. Sorry for beating you in it, I guess."

She tossed her head so her hair all flew back. "Harry fell off his broom," she said. "It's hardly a grand victory."

"Yeah, well Draco didn't fall off _his_ broom," Daniel told her. "And it was a really tricky catch in those conditions, so don't you go saying he didn't deserve to win."

"I'm so _sorry_ for not admiring Malfoy's _tricky_ catch while my best friend was falling off his broom in a deadly storm!" Granger cried, blinking back tears. "I guess those kind of things just matter more to some than to others!"

"I think you should go to the library," Daniel said.

Granger stared at him for a moment, then nodded, blinking tears from her eyes. "Yes," she said. "I probably should."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He was still in a good enough mood on Monday to make a token effort to find Lupin and talk to him about the Boggart. Unfortunately, the man wasn't at breakfast or lunch, and now Daniel thought about it, he hadn't been for days.

Maybe he'd gone home. That would be a bit annoying, now Daniel was kind of in the mood to get the thing sorted. So he went up to Snape, who hadn't told him off yet for not going and studying any more, just as the man was getting up to leave the staff table.

"Where's L — _Professor _Lupin?" he asked, ignoring the muffled snort that came from Vector a few seats down.

"Professor Lupin is indisposed," Snape said smoothly, lowering himself back down into his seat.

"Still?"

Snape nodded slightly.

"I wanted to talk to him about the Boggart," Daniel said. "What's wrong with him?"

That time it was Snape who snorted, but he looked more angry than amused. "It is not my place to say," he said, curling his lip in disgust.

He looked like he was about to say something else, but then McGonagall came and sat right next to him, and he clenched his jaw shut.

"Hi," Daniel told her. "I think Hermione Granger's gone insane."

She gave him a withering look, and poured herself a goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Livingstone," Snape said, getting to his feet again. "This may be a holiday, but you still owe your professors a modicum of respect."

"Is that a lot?" Daniel asked. "Because I think I'd understand what you people told me better if you used words I knew the meanings of."

Hm. Snape really didn't like it when students sassed him in front of other professors. He really, really didn't. Daniel usually remembered that.

"Come on then Livingstone," Snape said, walking out from behind the table. "It has become apparent that work is required to improve your paltry vocabulary and woeful listening comprehension forthwith."

Daniel followed him down to the Potions classroom, wondering if it would be asking for trouble to see if Snape would tell him how to use Occlumency to hide thoughts and memories. If he tempted Snape to look into his mind, and the man saw Black, all hell would break loose.

So he kept his mouth shut, apart from pointing out that he was completely up to date with his schoolwork, so should be allowed to run free for the rest of the week. And that Hermione Granger was really and truly a head case, and probably a danger to the rest of the students.

Snape made him spend _six hours_ preparing stuff for potions. And it wasn't fun stuff, either, like dissection. He was stuck crushing rowan berries, sorting through endless piles of wolfsbane and belladonna and hellebore and, in the one kind of cool part of the afternoon, burning small amounts of rowan wood and storing the ash.

He'd tried to soften Snape up a bit with some casual conversation, but when his crack about a werewolf on staff was met with a look that suggested Snape was all but dumbstruck at Daniel's stupidity, he laid off.

It was pretty unfair. Just because _Snape _was an isolated chemistry nerd didn't mean everyone could spend hours underground doing science projects in silence without needing some kind of reminder they were still alive. Apart from instructions and snide criticism, the first words Snape spoke to him were, "Don't go looking for Lupin," and _that _was when they were going up to dinner.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel didn't go looking for Lupin. For the most part he avoided Snape, too. He had more important things to be doing, like going over all the stuff he'd learned from Black, and checking to see if he remembered everything he needed to remember. Turned out he'd only lost one day's worth, and it was just his luck it had been the most book-heavy few hours he'd apparently spent in his whole life.

It was way better than study with Snape, though. For one thing, Black was even more easily distracted than Daniel, and knew all kinds of awesome stuff Snape would never consider telling him. Like a spell to make people talk in whatever accent you wanted, and one that made everyone looking at an object do a double-take at it. Black knew a whole lot of paintings by name, too, and knew which ones would and wouldn't go running for a teacher if you broke the rules.

He even helped out with separating the focus of the flying charm, and did most of the brainwork needed to invent a spell to transform the Transformers. Once Daniel had explained what they were, and about and radar and missiles and formation flying and everything, Black went absolutely manic thinking up ideas of how to do all that magically.

Daniel found himself reminding Black they had to get to the bookwork more often than the other way around. The look of disgust on the man's face when that happened was probably how Daniel looked most of the time when any kind of schoolwork was involved. This wasn't just schoolwork, though, this was turning into an animal at will. Some sacrifices were just worth it.

Lupin emerged toward the end of the week, looking like a pile of old laundry as usual. Daniel wondered what happened if a teacher died of a wasting illness halfway through the school year. Maybe they'd be let off classes while Dumbledore searched for the next idiot who hadn't noticed that the job was cursed. It might take so long they'd get out of doing an exam as well. Maybe Dumbledore would end up teaching the subject himself, and then after a year they'd finally be rid of him.

That would be awesome.


	27. Switcheroo

Lisa broke off from the other Ravenclaw girls outside Charms, and headed over to where Daniel was waiting with Theo. In the past, she'd tended to glance across, catch his eye, and convince herself that she'd be welcome. This time she walked up like she was daring him, or anyone else, to object. She didn't really look like a little girl any more, even though she was still small and a little dainty-looking.

Daniel guessed having a sister die and getting a boyfriend for the first time could do that to you. With that thought, he looked around for Goldstein. He was wandering up the hallway with Terry and Corner, talking earnestly about something, face twisted up in thought.

Things seemed to be settled in Ravenclaw, then.

"Hi," Lisa said when she reached him. Theo wandered away without a word. "How was your Christmas?"

Daniel met here eyes, and didn't know why he felt so awkward. Maybe he was so used to having unspoken stuff between them that now it was mostly cleared out, he didn't know how they were going to work together.

"Pretty boring," he said. "Snape made me do all my homework, and there was no one cool to hang around with."

"You were here?" she asked, brown eyes widening.

"Yup," Daniel said. The doors opened then, and everyone headed reluctantly into the classroom.

"Sit with me, okay?" Lisa said.

"Goldstein's okay with that now, is he?" Daniel asked, flinging his bag down and pulling out a chair.

"He's my boyfriend, not my father," Lisa said, rolling her eyes and sitting down.

"How many times did you have to tell him that?"

Lisa's lips quirked a little, and she glanced across at where Goldstein was pretending not to be watching them. "A few," she said.

Flitwick welcomed them all back to school, which earned him a fair amount of groaning. He dove straight into his lecture on limiting area charms. Stuck sitting between Lisa and McMillan, who both paid attention in class as a rule, Daniel didn't have much choice but to take notes.

Once that hour was over, though, and it was time for some practical, Daniel couldn't wait to try out some of the stuff Black had taught him.

"Seamus or Dean?" he asked Lisa, standing up as she was checking a couple of things in the textbook.

She held up a hand to wait until she'd finished reading, then nodded and looked across at him. "What did you say?"

"I said pick Seamus or Dean," Daniel said. "I want to show you something I learned over the holiday."

She looked around anxiously, but Daniel knew she'd fold. "Dean," she said. "What's —"

"_Oro insolio_," Daniel said softly, aiming his wand at Dean, two tables in front of them, and flicking it slightly left on the last syllable. An Irish accent would do just wonderfully.

Dean, who was pointing at the textbook and arguing with Seamus, stopped suddenly. Seamus was turning red quite quickly, and he slammed his wand down on the table.

"I'm not doing it!" Dean said, for all the world like he'd been born and bred in Belfast.

"What do you mean you're not _doing _it?" Seamus shouted. "I can hear you, you stupid —"

"Gentlemen!" Flitwick said, walking quickly across to them.

By then, everyone in the classroom was staring at the two Gryffindor boys. Daniel glanced at Lisa, who quite obviously couldn't decide whether to laugh or to disapprove.

"Where did you learn that?" she asked, a little giggle emerging as she watched Dean starting to speak over and over again, but eventually just keep his mouth shut.

"Secret," Daniel said. Flitwick cast something at Dean, motioning for Seamus to calm down.

"Please let it oh thank God," Dean said, his whole body relaxing as the words came out of his mouth in the familiar Cockney drawl. "Thanks, Professor."

Flitwick looked expectantly at Seamus, who blushed even deeper and muttered an apology.

Feeling very pleased with the immediate success of the spell, Daniel went right ahead and set the air to glowing Slytherin green directly around Lisa's face.

"Cubic foot," he said triumphantly. "I could get used to this practising stuff ahead of time, you know. Makes class a whole lot easier.

"Shift it a foot," Lisa said. "To your left."

He pulled it off, easy.

"Very good, Mr. Livingstone!" Flitwick said. "You've been reading ahead, I see."

"Not by choice," Daniel said. "Didn't have much else to do."

"Have you attempted the next step?" Flitwick asked, looking thoughtfully at the small glowing patch of air. "Halve, or double, the area affected, maintaining the same level of illumination."

Daniel had done way more than that. With Black, he'd created short little beams of light that would ricochet off shiny surfaces. After about three days of trial and error, he could even have them automatically fade out after about ten feet of flight.

He shrank the cube down to half size, letting the extra energy fade out into the air around it. Then, just for shits and giggles, he dragged it out to cover all of them, carefully controlling the strength of the light.

"Marvellous!" Flitwick said, clapping his hands in delight. "Twenty-five points to Slytherin. You waste your potential, Mr. Livingstone, you really do."

He walked across to McMillan and Douglas, who were working on shrinking their own light. Theirs got brighter as they got smaller, and duller as they grew. Daniel was feeling pretty damn good about himself as he waved his wand to get rid of all his light.

"I'm glad you don't study," Lisa said, creating her own cubic foot of light. Hers was a nice soft yellow colour, lighting up her hair nicely. "I don't think I could handle the competition."

Daniel laughed. "No fear," he said. "That week of bookwork was the worst of my _life_, I swear."

"How did you draw so much in for the huge cube?" she asked, letting hers seesaw between a foot and two feet, concentrating steadily at controlling the transition.

"I started with tiny ones," Daniel said, sitting back down and swinging his boots up onto the desk. "Drawing a lot of light into about an inch is good practice for when you want to do it bigger."

"Hm," she said, shrinking hers slowly. "That makes sense."

"Let's try merging them," Daniel said. "See if the colour changes."

"Let me get the basics right first, genius" Lisa said, smiling. "Not all of us can fly before we can walk."

"I'm glad we're friends again," he said before he could chicken out of it. "I missed you, I think."

"Me too," she said. "But some things have changed forever. Now _you're_ going to have to tutor _me _in Charms._"_

The absurdity of _that_ set Daniel laughing for a full minute, while Lisa went back to practising, a smile finding its way onto her face over and over again.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

They sat together in History as well. Daniel wondered if they should, but Lisa told him that she'd have three hours straight with Goldstein in Potions, and she wanted to sit with her friends.

Daniel thought maybe she was going a bit over the top in proving her point, but he wasn't going to complain. They spent the two hours comparing holidays. Lisa had spent the first week with her family, and had Goldstein over for the second week. She seemed to have had a good time, but didn't have many stories to tell.

Daniel found out that the two older Ravenclaws that had stayed over Christmas, Heath Butler and Meredith McEwen, were avoiding their families, who disapproved of their plans to get married as soon as they'd graduated. They seemed to have some sort of Romeo and Juliet reputation in Ravenclaw. Lisa sighed a bit over the telling, her eyes wistful.

The end of the lesson came as kind of a surprise. He'd lost track of time, complaining to a sympathetic Lisa about what a little prat Derek Quinn was, and how unfair it was for Snape to have forced him to study for like a week straight. But the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs had to hurry off to Potions, and the Gryffindors left slightly more slowly for Defence, and Daniel was left with only his housemates for company.

Draco, who'd been pretty pleasant up until now, stalked off before Daniel could so much as look him in the eye. Crabbe and Goyle followed him stoically, and Pansy took the time to glare at him disapprovingly before marching after them.

"What did I do?" Daniel said, looking helplessly at Theo. "Oh," he said then, feeling a bit of an idiot. "Sorry for kind of dumping you, it's just Lisa wanted to prove to Goldstein that she'd —"

"No problem," Theo cut in. "For _me_."

Millicent grunted, and hung back at the History classroom like usual. Fourth-year History was directly after third-year. The rest of them started to make their way down the corridor.

"So I hear you were stuck here over the holidays," Blaise said, falling into step on the other side of Daniel.

Daniel expected him to say something like _such a shame, when the Muggleborns discover that they no longer fit into _anybody's_ world_, or maybe just a simple _sucks to be you_.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, I was."

"Sorry to hear that," Blaise said airily. "From what I've heard, it's rarely a good time here when you're outnumbered by the staff."

"Yeah," Daniel said again, waiting for the punchline.

Blaise clapped a hand on his shoulder. "I have to go and prepare for the next lesson," he said. "I never seem to get enough done during the holidays. Good to see you again though."

He walked off, perfectly nonchalant.

"Fuck," Daniel said. "Him too?"

He hadn't even noticed Daphne was still there until she spoke. "I'm pretty sure he's just planning to make Draco jealous," she said. "He hasn't talked to me about any change of heart."

"I wish people would stop being nice to me without even a moment's notice," Daniel grouched.

"Then you shouldn't have such a winning personality," Theo told him. "Go away Daphne, I need to ask Daniel some stuff."

"So do I," she said sweetly. "For example, who does he know who's a _werewolf_?"

They all stopped dead on the spot, staring at each other.

"Uh," Daniel said. "Nobody?"

"Then why did Snape let you hang around while he was brewing Wolfsbane?"

"Snape's brewing Wolfsbane?" Theo asked incredulously, perfectly in time with Daniel's thoughts.

"I didn't know he was," Daniel said. "How do _you _know?"

Daphne stared at him, assessing. "You really didn't know? Even after studying right next to him while he was doing it?"

"Snape's an incredible brewer," Theo said sensibly. "He probably sells it."

"Where are you getting this from?" Daniel asked Daphne, not letting himself be distracted. "You spying on Snape?"

"I heard some things," Daphne said. "I just didn't understand why he would be brewing it with you right there."

Theo started to laugh.

"What?" Daniel asked, thinking back to all the things he'd talked about with Snape, thinking they'd never get out.

"Imagine," Theo managed, not able to stop laughing properly. "Imagine. If _Remus … Lupin_, was a _werewolf_!"

He was practically crying now. Daniel and Daphne stared at each other, determined not to be the first to crack. Theo slid down a wall, and put his head between his knees to try to stop laughing.

Daphne gave first, to Daniel's complete and utter satisfaction. She snorted, sounding very unladylike, and then there was a look in her eye that made Daniel crack up just as hard as Theo.

They were interrupted by pretty much all of the fourth year Ravenclaws, coming down the stairs. They got some pretty suspicious looks, but pulled themselves together quickly enough that the Ravenclaws went by without comment.

"That's Ravenclaw's Seeker," Theo said, pointing once they'd gone past. "Cho Chang."

"Who cares?" Daniel said.

"Oh, is she fit again?" Daphne said. "Just in time for our match, too. Typical."

"Davies had a falling out with Williams, I heard," Theo said. "Otherwise he'd be holding Chang back a little bit longer. If he's not going to play Williams _or _Chang, that basically leaves Hilda Rye, and she's completely untried."

"Rye? I've never even heard of her."

Daniel wondered if anyone had thought up a curse that would stop a person from ever talking about Quidditch in the presence of the caster. Maybe he should ask Black.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel weathered the extreme discontent a few weeks later when Cho Chang caught the snitch about ten minutes into the match, and Slytherin lost without having scored a single goal. The consensus in the common room afterwards was that now they had absolutely no chance at winning the Cup, even if their last match _was_ against Hufflepuff. Not with Ravenclaw in the form they were in and Gryffindor with such a strong team.

Goyle's birthday came and went, Daniel fell comfortably behind in most of his classes, Theo got closer and closer to Granger, taking full advantage of whatever had torn her away from her friends. Blaise stayed casually polite, Draco was sullen and distant, and Lisa seemed to have finally convinced Goldstein that he could actually trust her around her male friends.

Black was great company for when Daniel got sick of all the school politics and needed to just relax. He always listened intently when Daniel told him stories about using his old spells, and didn't seem to be running out of stories of his own to tell. He kept teaching Daniel the Animagus stuff, of course, and said he was getting through it way quicker than Black had done himself. Which was, of course, all to the credit of the teacher, who was infinitely talented and outrageously generous with his talents.

Basically, time started to fly by just as things were looking up. Before he knew it it was February, and Theo was working himself up to ask Granger to the Hogsmeade trip before Valentine's Day. It would be absolute insanity on his part, to be actually going out with a Muggleborn, and a Gryffindor, and a _Granger_, but Daniel didn't have the heart to try talking him out of it.

Daniel went to the Hufflepuff vs. Gryffindor match with him the first weekend of February, even though he'd really rather have teeth pulled. It was either that or stay back in Slytherin with Draco and company, who'd claimed to have "better things to do".

Theo, like usual, wanted to sit right up the top where he could, in his words, see all the plays. So Daniel followed him up there, and tried to find shapes in the clouds. They mostly just looked like clouds to him, but it helped him pass the time at least.

He really only started to pay attention when the tone of the shouting switched from general excitement to surprise. He looked down at the pitch, to see a huge ghostly antlered thing charging at something on the ground, and all the Gryffindor players flying into what looked like a massive group hug, while the crowd went berserk.

Daniel assumed that meant Gryffindor had won.

"That means we're screwed, right?" Daniel asked Theo, who was peering down at the action with a bemused expression. His friend nodded slowly, then sat back.

"It'll be Ravenclaw, now," he said. "Unless Gryffindor wins their last match by about two hundred and fifty points, or we beat Hufflepuff by three hundred plus whatever Ravenclaw end up scoring"

"Okay, good," Daniel said. "You ready to go back?"

"Yeah," Theo said. "Do you know what the stag was all about?"

Daniel shook his head, making his way carefully down the stairs. "I assumed it was some Quidditch thing."

"Yeah, deer are a _huge_ part of wizarding sport," Theo said.

"Shut up."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

And that woman had the temerity to call _Snape _biased. As far as Snape was aware, there were no rules against black cloaks, nor standing on the shoulders of a friend. Yet he was quite certain that there _were _rules against casting offensive spells at fellow students.

Someone had to take that boy in hand, or someone would end up dead. Such an enormous amount of power, made apparent once and for all by the corporeal Patronus, in the hands of such a reckless fool he couldn't tell a student in a black hooded cloak from a Dementor.

Perhaps he'd been Obliviated as well, and had conveniently forgotten that close proximity to a Dementor _made him lose consciousness_.

Snape needed a holiday.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

As if it wasn't bad enough that Draco's marvellous plan to distract Potter by pretending to be Dementors had fucked up spectacularly, putting him in an even more foul mood than he already was. The next morning, news was all over the school that Sirius Black had found his way into Gryffindor Tower this time, and had attacked Weasley with a knife.

The hall was absolutely mental over breakfast, with twice as many people at the Gryffindor table than usual, all clamouring to get the inside story. Daniel had a quicker way to get at it. He ate a quick breakfast, and dashed back to the dormitory, pulling out his mirror and demanding that Black answer him.

"What piece of shit reason do you have this time?" Daniel asked, as soon as the man's face appeared. "A knife, are you serious?"

"Yes," Black said.

They stared at each other for a while.

"I could have killed them all, if I'd wanted to," Black said. "You know I don't."

"I know _that_," Daniel said. "That's not even an issue."

Black frowned. "So what is?"

Daniel thought about that. "You carry on like this you're going to get caught," he said. "Then how will I learn to be an Animagus?"

Black laughed. Daniel managed not to jump. It was a special kind of moment, but Black didn't seem to notice.

"I'm flattered," he said. "How's chapter twenty-seven?"

Daniel should have been more worried. But he just wasn't. In a way, it was a relief to have Black going after the rat on his own, even if he was making an absolute hash of it. This way, Daniel himself didn't have anything to lose.

Except Black's company, he supposed, which was something he was getting very, very used to.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The next morning, the school was in slightly less of a frenzy. What worried Daniel was that _now_, the teachers seemed to be making a proper effort at improving security. Like the last time Black had made it in the castle hadn't been anything to worry about.

He went to Charms and sat himself down next to Seamus, thinking it might be worth getting the Gryffindor version of what happened. He glanced across at Weasley, expecting him to be telling the story _again_, this time probably with dragons and mermaids and a honking great buffalo.

But he was sitting staring straight ahead pointedly, two seats down from Granger, who was doing the same. Potter was in between, looking back and forth between them helplessly.

"What, they've had an even _bigger_ fight now?" Daniel asked, watching Granger and Weasley ignore each other so intensely you could feel it from across the room.

"Hah, yeah," Seamus said. "You bet they did."

"Crookshanks ate Scabbers," Dean said, leaning in front of Seamus so he didn't have to talk too loudly. "Hermione won't admit it, and Ron's hopping mad about it."

The room hushed suddenly, but when Daniel looked around he realised nothing had changed. His hearing had dulled, as he tried to understand what had just happened.

"Weasley's rat's dead?" he asked, forcing his voice to sound as normal as possible.

"Yup. Ripped to pieces by a bloodthirsty monster, and _devoured_," Seamus said with rather tasteless relish. "And then two days Ron got attacked in his own bed by Sirius Black, no less."

"Hermione's really being pretty thoughtless," Dean said. "Ron's had Scabbers ever since he's been coming here."

Daniel needed the class to end. Now.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Scabbers was eaten by Granger's cat," Daniel said a little over two hours later, not knowing any other way to break the news.

Black's eyes went so wide it looked like they might pop out of his skull. Then a delighted grin split his face in half, and he started to laugh so hard he actually fell over, and Daniel was left staring at what looked like the wall of a cave, the laughter nearly ringing in his ears.

That was much better than Daniel had expected him to take it. The man laughed for about ten minutes, and Daniel caught occasional glimpses of him rolling around on the floor.

Then he sat up again, and fixed his eyes carefully on Daniel's. "Tell me more," he said greedily.

"Well, it's been after him for months," Daniel said. "And I heard from my friends who are their roommates today that it got him two nights back."

Black smiled a blissful smile. "Shame he was never one to appreciate irony," he said. "But in a way, it just makes it even sweeter." He chuckled, but seemed to be over his laughing fit. Then his face darkened all at once, and he fell into some kind of reverie.

"Hey," Daniel said. "Will you tell me, now?"

Black looked up and out at Daniel, eyes almost peaceful. "I suppose," he said.

"You were only not telling me before because you came over all protective," Daniel reminded him. "No danger now, right?"

Black's eyes narrowed, and he rubbed at his chin. "This is true, isn't it?" he asked, softly and ever so dangerously. "This isn't a cunning plan you've thought up to get me to spill?"

"Nope," Daniel said. "Cross my heart."

Black nodded. "Yeah, okay," he said. "You're not sitting somewhere you could fall off, right?"

Daniel frowned, shifted the mirror, and lay on his belly on the bed. "No," he said. "Not a chance."

Black bit his lip, something Daniel had never seen from him before. He then ran his hands through his hair, which was thoroughly familiar. He opened his mouth, then shut it again.

"Scabbers," he said. "That rat."

He paused again.

"Is it an Animagus?" Daniel asked, getting impatient.

Black nodded. "Yes," he croaked, and swallowed fiercely. "He was Peter Pettigrew."

Daniel didn't know what thoughts were flying through his head, he just knew that there were a lot of them.

"I don't know how much you know," Black continued, a little more strongly. "But he was in my year at school."

"I know the story," Daniel said. "I am in Slytherin, after all."

"Hm," Black said. "Yes, you are."

Daniel hoped that hadn't torn it. He went on, hoping to get Black caught up the story, rather than thoughts of Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. "I mean, everyone says you blew Pettigrew up, they all saw it."

"Just as he wanted," Black snarled, then, astonishingly, smiled. It was a bitter, pained smile, but it was a still a smile. "I don't know how close a look you got at him, but the little bugger's missing a finger. Or toe, as a rat. The finger he left as proof I'd done him in."

"A rat's no more likely to survive an explosion than a man is," Daniel said. "I mean, you cast the curse on _him_, right? So he'd have been blasted to smithereens whatever shape he was in."

"Wrong," Black said emphatically. "Very, very wrong."

"The curse was meant for Pettigrew, but once he was a rat it couldn't find him, and that's why the Muggles copped it? Twelve Muggles worth one wizard kind of thing?"

Black shook his head. "You're missing the obvious," he said. "I never cursed anyone that day, though I damn well wish I had, now."

That couldn't be right. "You're saying Pettigrew, the Longbottom of his generation, was the one who killed twelve Muggles with a _single curse_?" Daniel said. "Why the fuck would he do that?"

Black's next smile was the stuff of nightmares. Daniel gulped, and felt himself wriggling back from the mirror.

"He'd just destroyed Voldemort," Black said.

Daniel didn't have the ingrained reaction to the Dark Lord's name that the wizardborn did, but it gave him an uncomfortable feeling in his gut.

"He had enemies coming out his ears, and he was terrified," Black continued. "He'd tried to go to ground, but I found him. Little bugger could never hide from me or James for long. Except, I guess, in the one way that mattered."

That was the first mention Black had _ever _made of Potter.

"Pettigrew couldn't have destroyed the Dark Lord," Daniel said.

"I wish you wouldn't call him that," Black said, scowling fiercely.

"You prefer _You-Know-Who_?" Daniel asked. "That's the dumbest name in the history of anything."

"Just don't call him the Dark Lord," Black said flatly. "And Peter did destroy him. He sent him to Godric's Hollow, and you know the rest."

"You were Secret Keeper," Daniel said, but he wasn't sure of anything any more. What Black was saying was almost making sense, and the story "everyone knew" was being called seriously into question.

"I didn't betray them," Black said hoarsely. "I never did. I never could have. Not James. Not Lily. Not Harry. I _never did_, I swear to you."

"You told everyone you were Secret Keeper but made it _Pettigrew_?" Daniel said, with a flash of insight. "That's —" he bit back the _not very Gryffindor of you._ Black wasn't likely to take it well, for all that Daniel meant it as a compliment.

"It made so much sense at the time," Black said, either laughing softly or trying not to cry. "I was the obvious choice for Secret Keeper. I thought they'd all come after me, and I could take them down as they came. I'd never be able to betray James and Lily, and Peter could do what he did best, and stay out of sight and out of mind."

The world shifted around Daniel, and settled uneasily. He had questions, but there was no way he could ask them now. He was afraid to speak at all, or even look at the mirror.

"So there you have it," Black said. "What do you think?"

Daniel shuffled through his questions, and found the one that mattered most.

"Why did you end up in prison?" he asked, forcing himself to look Black in the eye.

That clearly hadn't been what Black was expecting. "Why…" he said, frowning. "I was guilty."

"You just said —"

"No, I mean I felt guilty," Black said. "My best friend had just died, and it was my fault, and Peter had just had his finest moment, right in front of me. I don't remember it all that well. I think I was crazy."

"Was," Daniel scoffed automatically.

Black laughed, the sound more painful than Daniel had heard it before. Less like a dog's bark, and more like its death rattle.

"What I meant," Daniel said quickly, horrified that he'd said that. "Was how could they send you to prison?"

Black was nonplussed. "My dear boy," he said, then clapped a hand over his mouth in horror. "Forget I ever said _that,_" he instructed Daniel. "But seriously. Public record said I'd been Secret Keeper. The street exploded, Muggles dead all over the place, Peter nowhere to be seen. Are you saying you _wouldn't _have arrested me?"

"I can think off the top of my head of two things that would have gotten you off," Daniel said. "I'm sure someone like Dumbledore would have a million."

Black raised his eyebrows. "You've clearly never grown up with the Black name," he said. "Or one anything like it."

"You're a _Gryffindor_," Daniel said. "Everyone who matters on your side is a Gryffindor. Explain to me how it's Gryffindor to throw one of your own to the wolves. You lot hate Slytherins, sure, and your family's a bit dark. If they'd investigated, they must have found the truth."

"You're young," Black said, and the brush-off in his voice stabbed at Daniel. "You have no idea what it was like then, and nor should you. It was a _war_."

Daniel had seen war movies. He _knew _what made a good guy, and what made a bad guy. He shook his head. "They didn't have the time to slip you a few drops of Veritaserum, then," he said. "Or did you have to go to prison so that they could have good press, and hunt Death Eaters with more pizazz?"

Black shook his head, as if he was trying to get rid of a fly. "That's not the point," he said.

"Well Pettigrew's dead now," Daniel said. "I don't see what else _could_ be the point."

"Harry is the point," Black said decisively. "I've got to look out for Harry."

Daniel sniffed. "You'd help him a lot more if your name was clear," he said. "What's your plan, skulk around in the forest and hope any danger that happens to him happens right where you can get to it? You should be free."

Black shrugged. "James should still be alive," he said. "But he won't be, ever again. Look, kid —"

"Daniel," Daniel interrupted. "My name is Daniel."

Black paused for a moment, then nodded. "Daniel," he said. "With Peter dead, I have no proof of anything. With Veritaserum, there's always the chance of error, and I'm to be attacked on sight in any case. I'm not going to throw myself at the mercy of the Ministry, and hope for the best. I'm going to do what I know I can, now, to help my godson."

"Which is what?"

"Stay alive," Black said. "Stay free. Keep in touch with a boy called Daniel, who can tell me what's going on in the castle, and if he's in any danger."

"Yuck," Daniel said. "You want me to keep watch over Potter for you?"

"Just tell me what you hear," Black said.

Daniel was pretty sure he hadn't really taken it all in, so he forced himself to stop, and think.

"Shouldn't you be in class, or something?" Black said after a moment.

"History," Daniel said dismissively. "I've pretty much got until three."

"You should go," Black said.

"You don't —" Daniel started, but then saw the look on Black's face. He supposed some time alone wasn't too much for the man to ask.

"Talk to you this evening then," he said, sitting up and reaching for his boots. "I've got a few questions about the nexus that I forgot from last night."

"Sure," Black said absently. "Sure."

The mirror went blank. Daniel grabbed his bag and headed up to History, only about a quarter of an hour late.


	28. Another World

Daniel had had secrets before. Hell, he wouldn't know he was if he wasn't hiding something important about himself from people. But he wasn't used to keeping secrets for other people, especially not when he didn't see why they needed to be kept.

He sat at breakfast on Tuesday morning, too busy thinking to eat properly. He glanced over to the Gryffindor table. None of the third years were there; Daniel supposed they all must take Divination. He was enjoying Blaise's absence, but without him, Daphne or Millicent, there wasn't much of a buffer between Daniel and Draco's disapproving posse.

Daniel ignored that Draco was ignoring him, and continued to gaze at the mostly-empty Gryffindor table. Black had sat there for seven years, with his best friend James, and the little forgotten kid who trailed at their heels, taking the scraps they'd offered him.

In Daniel's year, the friendships in Gryffindor were pretty firmly established. Dean and Seamus; Brown and Patil; Potter, Weasley and Granger.

And Longbottom.

It was stupid to be so anxious. The people who thought Black had been the bad guy weren't going around staring at Weasley like history was going to repeat itself.

"What are you looking at?" Theo asked, shifting over to put his head right next to Daniel's.

"Just thinking," Daniel said, shaking himself out of it. "Does all of Gryffindor really take Divination?"

"How should I know?" Theo said, yawning. "Ask Daphne." He turned to Draco, who was glaring into his juice. "Hey, Draco," he said. "Have you done the Potions prep?"

"Yes," Draco said, voice clipped and hard. "Of course I have."

"Could I look over it at lunch?"

"No." Draco got up and left, without so much as lining up the cutlery on his plate. Daniel actually saw a look of surprise exchanged between Crabbe and Goyle before they got up to follow him. Pansy stayed, though. Sometimes breakfast was more important than Draco Malfoy, even for her.

"What did I do?" Theo asked. "He always lets me see his Potions work."

"Draco's in a bad mood," Pansy said primly.

"Wow," Daniel said. "You must be really close to him, to have noticed that."

She stared daggers. Didn't help her much with the comeback, though.

"Do you know why?" Theo asked. Then, with a sideways glance at Daniel, "I mean, apart from the obvious?"

She lifted her chin and ignored the question. Which meant no.

"Have you done the Potions?" Theo asked her, sighing. "I don't get the tarnish question."

"I haven't done it," Pansy said. "Maybe we could go through it after Charms."

"Sure," Theo said. "Daniel, you in?"

Daniel wanted to talk to Black again. He tried not to skip Defence, as a rule, but he'd thought maybe he could lose track of time after Charms, or fall asleep again, or something. For all that Snape had said to be good with Lupin —

Lupin. He could tell Lupin.

"Daniel?"

"Nah," Daniel said, taking a bite of his toast so he wouldn't have to talk. Lupin had been their friend too, even if he wasn't in most of the stories. Lupin would want to believe Black, wouldn't he?

He could go into class, tell Goyle that Weasley's rat was finally dead, and maybe ask if he was the one who'd taken its toe off, as revenge for it biting him. Then ask Draco about Black, and ask why he would have attacked Weasley rather than Potter. If Lupin was too thick to pick up on clues like that, then he wouldn't be much use to Black anyway.

But it was Black's secret, not Daniel's. Who knew, maybe Lupin had been a traitor as well. Lupin and the memory of Pettigrew vs. Black, in the court of public opinion. Didn't seem like any other kind of court had mattered at the time. If Daniel somehow put Black back into prison by trying to help, well, it didn't bear thinking about. But he wanted to do something.

Daniel jumped as someone snapped their fingers in front of his face.

"Time for Transfiguration," Theo said. "You need me to point you in the right direction?"

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The last straw came at dinner on Tuesday. Snape hadn't seen the Intentiorum Auferas spell for fifteen years, but when he saw every single student make double- or triple-takes at a particular point along the Slytherin table, it was all too obvious what had happened.

The Potter boy was sitting at his own table, laughing uproariously with Weasley and Finnigan, no doubt revelling in the success of his infantile prank. Lupin was talking calmly with Sprout, looking insufferably smug, not sparing a glance for either the Slytherin table, or for his young thrall.

Snape would have another talk with Dumbledore as soon as dinner was over. This time, he would make the man listen. Or make his dissatisfaction known, anyway. At the very least he would be able to speak without censorship.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

It had been one of the hardest things in Daniel's entire life, but he managed not to laugh once at the looks on his housemates' faces when they glanced at the jug of pumpkin juice he'd charmed for the second, third, and sometimes even fourth times. Instead he listened intently to Daphne's latest story about Brown and Patil making fools of themselves in Divination.

Divination, Daniel had learned, was the greatest crock of shit ever to be taught in a school of any kind. According to Daphne, the only students who took the class seriously were Brown, Patil, Longbottom and Douglas, and the Gryffindor girls were so gullible you could feed them anything.

They were studying palmistry at the moment, and the story Daphne was telling had a lot of suspicious hand-holding and innuendo from Seamus, going completely over the head of Brown especially, but also Trelawney, the daft bat.

When Marcus Flint walked over to talk to Bole and spent about ten seconds looking back and forward between the pumpkin juice and his destination Daniel couldn't take it any more and hurried off to the dormitory to report his success, not even bothering to excuse himself.

As soon as the door swung shut behind him, Draco said, "Go to Hogsmeade with me." His tone had Daniel's back up straight away.

"Go jump off a cliff," he retorted. He'd come in here to talk to Black, not to put up with Draco and his moods. He hadn't even realised Draco wasn't at dinner.

Then he realised what his housemate had said, and stopped dead.

Draco was sitting cross-legged on his bed, holding a piece of parchment in one hand and twisting his sheets with the other.

"You were going to last time," he said, not meeting Daniel's eyes.

Daniel glanced uneasily at the door, and sat down on his own bed. "To show me around, yeah," he said.

"You still haven't been, properly," Draco said, setting the parchment aside and sitting up straighter. "I know some —"

This was just about enough. Everything else seemed to be sorting itself out for him, he could damn well sort this thing out for himself.

"Are you asking me out?" he asked. "Because I'm absolutely sick of whatever game it is you think you're playing."

Draco went absolutely white, and clasped his hands together in his lap.

It would be interesting to see if he'd swallow his pride enough to admit it, Daniel thought, wandering across to his own bed.

Draco rubbed his chin, grey eyes drifting around the room. "No," he said eventually. Daniel nodded; that was what he'd been expecting.

Then, Draco spoke again. "But," he said, eyes fixed firmly on Daniel's, "only because I know you won't say yes."

Oh. Daniel felt himself redden a little, but Draco looked away after a moment, and gave him a chance to compose himself.

"No Puddifoot's, then," he said, to be saying something. He tried to imagine Draco in the Barbie aisle, and the absurdity of that cheered him up a bit.

"Certainly not," Draco said. "In fact, I have other plans regarding lunch."

Daniel liked the sound of that.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Headmaster," Snape said, after turning down the offered sherbet lemon with all the dignity he could muster. "I have reason to believe Lupin is teaching the Potter boy spells from his schooldays. They are, in fact, being cast on students from my house with disturbing regularity."

Dumbledore held up a hand, but Snape had had enough of being placated. "To be perfectly frank, I can tolerate the werewolf's presence here, and could perhaps understand why under exceptional circumstances he may be allowed to hold a teaching position."

Dumbledore gave him a rather doubtful look, blue eyes amused. "Is that — " he began, but Snape was not finished.

"What I cannot begin to conceive the reasoning behind," he continued, "is why you are happy to see that beast — "

"Severus, please," Dumbledore interrupted. "Not beast."

"Why you are happy to allow that monster to hold private meetings with Harry Potter every week, considering the position we find ourselves in regarding Black!"

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore said. "If Harry were in any danger —"

"It is not physical danger to Potter that concerns me," Snape said. "It is the sheer impropriety of Black's childhood friend and ally being given personal time with his godson, at a time when security has already been severely compromised. The boy is eminently manoeuvrable, as you well know, and evidence suggests that he is beginning to be unduly influenced."

"You are no longer concerned for his physical safety?" Dumbledore said, as though that were a great surprise to him.

Snape would not get angry. He looked Dumbledore in the eye, occluding steadily, and shook his head. "I do not think Lupin has it in him to directly endanger the boy," he said.

"Ah," Dumbledore said, folding his hands carefully on the table, as if he thought Snape liable to explode at any minute. "Your concern is then that Professor Lupin may be giving Harry information you would not care to have revealed. Information that may have him looking at you in a different light."

"My concern," Snape said, feeling his mouth twisting around the word, "is that Potter will, in his customary idiotic fashion, find himself treated so affectionately by the werewolf that he will lose any semblance of rationality when it comes to the history of his father and his coterie, and hurl himself into danger once more, thoughtless of the consequences!"

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "I apologise. I see now that you do still have Harry's best interests at heart."

Snape's jaw started to hurt. He considered his alternatives, then forced out a few choice words. "Harry Potter is not the only student at Hogwarts," he growled.

"Indeed not," Dumbledore said graciously. "Would it help your peace of mind to know that on Wednesday evenings, Professor Lupin is training Harry to repel Dementors?"

"No," Snape said. "Not in the slightest."

That got the tiniest jolt of surprise out of the old man, and Snape revelled in it.

"Firstly," he said, "his use of the Patronus Charm was not used in self-defence, nor with any awareness of his surroundings or what the consequences of such a spell could be. Before one gives a man a weapon, one must first equip him with knowledge of the context in which such a weapon is to be used, and then only if he has the maturity required to comprehend and be bound by such parameters. Secondly, if such a spell is to be taught ahead of its time in the curriculum, it should be offered to all students equally, not taught in secluded meetings between a student and professor whose history is compromised, to say the least. Th—"

"Ah yes," Dumbledore said genially, just as Snape was getting up a head of steam. "How are you faring with Mr. Livingstone?"

Feeling triumphant against his better judgement, Snape smiled. "He has fallen somewhat behind again in his studies," he told the headmaster. "Otherwise he seems to be faring admirably."

Dumbledore's clear blue eyes assessed him steadily.

"I have not spoken to him outside a classroom context since December," Snape continued, warming to this new topic. "I feel to do so would not only distract him from his education, but also instil in him a sense of entitlement that would be detrimental to his development, compromising both his instincts and his ingenuity. I have every confidence in the boy's self-sufficiency, and see no reason for him to be treated differently to any other student."

Dumbledore nodded, though Snape knew better than to think he was taking the words to heart.

"You are not aware why he has stopped approaching you?" the old man said, eyes intent.

Snape suppressed a sigh. "None whatsoever," he said.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Do you know if Blaise is being nice to me just to piss you off?" Daniel asked, lying on his bed with his feet on his pillows, flicking through his Muggle Studies text. "He worries me."

Draco gave a one-shouldered shrug from where he was leaning back against his headboard. "That might be a part of it," he said. "I think he's more likely to be thinking politically. Perhaps Snape has finally convinced him that house unity should come before political differences. Goodness knows he's been trying."

"He should be cosying up to Theo then," Daniel pointed out. "He's the one who actually gets offended by all that shit."

"Ah, but our dear friend Blaise can't frame that as charity," Draco said, raising an eyebrow. "To make amends with a fellow pureblood would be admitting fault. Gallant condescension, on the other hand, comes naturally, and costs little."

"And you would know," Daniel said.

"Yes," Draco agreed. "I rather do."

They fell into a silence. Daniel read his book, and Draco watched him. After a while, Daniel realised that Draco was smiling, and not just at the sheer joy of his presence.

"What?" he said warily.

"We could find out," Draco said, looking over Daniel in kind of an appraising way.

"Find out what?"

"If Blaise is just trying to make me jealous," Draco said, as though that were obvious.

Daniel absolutely did not like the sound of that. "I'll just ignore him," he said.

"It would put your mind at ease, wouldn't it?" Draco said, with a dangerous-looking smile. "You want to know what he's up to."

"Well, sure," Daniel said. "But for all I know, he just wants to see how I react. He might be on a factfinding mission of his own."

"True," Draco said, but more as a throwaway than an actual concession. "But he should have to work for his facts, don't you think?"

"I don't really want to make things any more complicated," Daniel said. "It's nice having most people on speaking terms. I'm not going to do anything to turn that around."

"On purpose," Draco added, finishing the sentence.

Daniel wrinkled his nose at him. "So what's your lunch plan, then?" he asked.

"I'm going to ask Pansy," he said.

Daniel stared at him, dropping his book down onto the mattress. "Like on a date?"

Draco nodded. "Father says now is a good time to start reciprocating," he said, sounding so nonchalant it made Daniel a little ill to hear it. "If you leave them too long, things can turn nasty."

There was so much wrong with that Daniel didn't know where to start. "Them?" he ended up saying. It came out as a bit of a croak.

"Suitors," Draco explained, before his voice took on his recitation tone. "The more publicly one has been courted, the more important it becomes to respond before the situation turns sour."

"So … you'll be going out with Pansy, now," Daniel said, just to make sure he wasn't completely misunderstanding something very basic.

"Yes," Draco said. "Father thinks the time is right."

"You don't like her though," Daniel said, wondering if he was stupid for pointing it out.

Crabbe and Goyle came in without so much as knocking. Goyle was wearing the hat they'd bought in Hogsmeade, which they'd been wearing back and forth for months. With one look at Draco, he took it off and handed it to Crabbe, who jammed it onto his own head with a sour kind of grunt.

"Of course I do," Draco said, completely ignoring his two friends. "I've discussed the issue with Mother and Father many times, and it seems a sensible choice."

However used to Crabbe and Goyle Draco was, Daniel didn't feel like talking about this stuff with them in the room.

"I guess you know what you're doing, then," he said, and got up and walked out.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel was looking forward to going to Hogsmeade, and quite definitely had no plans to leave anything behind in Slytherin, or go running up to Gryffindor Tower on a whim. Even if he had been considering it, Theo and Draco between them weren't giving him an inch.

He'd told Theo that he'd agreed to spend the morning with Draco. Theo hadn't smirked, or winked, or been in any way annoying about it. When Daniel pressed him, Theo had admitted he had been planning to meet up with Granger in Hogsmeade anyway. And then Daniel hadn't been able to tease him about that.

Equal footing was annoying.

All the third-year Slytherins walked down to Hogsmeade together. For once Millicent wasn't with Jo Chalmers and the rest of the fourth years, and her presence drew Daphne and Pansy toward her, leaving Blaise more alone than he was used to, which prompted Draco to walk with him, who dragged the rest of them along with him. Pansy's eagerness for her date with Draco put her in the best mood Daniel had ever seen her in. The combination of her rare high spirits, Blaise's faultless courtesy and Millicent's unexpected presence gave Daniel one of those all-too-rare moments of satisfaction with his house.

Anyway, Weasley was walking with Dean and Seamus, and the Ravenclaws seemed to be having a similar moment of house unity, so he didn't have much choice in the matter.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Once they were at the outskirts of Hogsmeade, they split up easily and quickly, like it had all been pre-arranged. Millicent took Pansy by the arm and walked purposefully into town, Theo faded away to find Granger, Daphne and Blaise reattached themselves and Crabbe and Goyle strode off, hat on Crabbe's head.

"Millicent owed you a favour, huh," Daniel said, from where he was left standing with Draco.

Draco smiled. "Something like that."

"So show me this expert knowledge you have of Hogsmeade," Daniel said.

"I thought we could look at the Shrieking Shack," Draco said. "This way."

Daniel followed him, but wasn't impressed. "I know where the Shrieking Shack is," he said. "And you said it was rubbish anyway."

"The weather's nice," Draco said, walking until he found a fairly secluded spot downhill from the shack and out of sight of most of the town. He cast a quiet spell Daniel didn't hear, and sat down on the grass.

"I want to ask you something," he said, so directly it startled Daniel. Draco tended to speak at people, not to them, and listen only as it suited him. Now he was looking up at Daniel like they were going to have an actual conversation.

Daniel sat on the cool grass next to him, and started to pluck at the blades. "What?" he said.

"The hippogriff's to be executed," Draco said. "The case was heard yesterday."

"That's not exactly a question," Daniel pointed out, relieved at the subject matter. "More of a crying shame."

"Do you think Potter and his lot will come after me for it?" Draco asked.

Daniel laughed. "Because I'm such an expert on the Gryffindor thought process, right?" he said. "How should I know?"

"Well, you were both raised as Muggles," Draco said reasonably. "How would you react if Hagrid were your friend?"

"I dunno," Daniel said. "If Hagrid was my friend there are a million ways I could react. Since if that was true I'd clearly be insane, some of them would probably include trying to overthrow the government, and a daring rescue with my underpants outside my lycra and some kind of cape."

He smiled in satisfaction at Draco's baffled expression. "Or maybe I'd just be sad," he said. "I don't know what you're getting at."

"You think entirely differently," Draco said. "It's interesting."

"Well, I think for myself," Daniel said, a little smarmily. "I haven't been trained up to be one thing like you have."

"I think for myself," Draco retorted. "If I didn't, I'd be listening to Father when he tells me you're not a pureblood, and not worth my time."

"Yeah, okay," Daniel said. Not like he could deny that. "But most of the time you just do what he tells you. I don't have anyone telling me what to think and do all the time, so I get to think up my own stuff."

"I know," Draco said, his words tinged with envy. "That's why it's interesting when you talk. Because it's you."

No. Change the subject. "You want my opinions?" Daniel said. "My opinion is that you're being unfair to Pansy going out with her when you don't even like her."

"I told you," Draco said. "I have no objection to her at all."

"Yeah, but you don't like her," Daniel said. "Not the way she likes you."

"Then I'm doing her a favour," Draco said. "Really, her family is less than an ideal match for a Malfoy. I'm not obligated to so much as notice her, let alone court her."

"You're thinking about marriage?"

"Of course," Draco said in mild surprise. "Why else would I be taking her to lunch?"

Daniel flopped down on his back and sighed into the sky. "I don't know if it's a wizard thing, or a pureblood thing," he said, "or a Slytherin thing, or a Malfoy thing. But whatever it is, it's mental. You can go on dates without it leading straight to marriage."

"Oh," Draco said. "I assumed that was why you were holding Turpin at arm's length. Without knowing your own blood status, you could hardly afford to be linked to a —"

"Muggleborn," Daniel said before Draco could put his foot in his mouth. "And you're completely wrong. I didn't want to go out with Lisa, because I don't like her that way. She's my friend, that's all."

"And Pansy's my friend," Draco said, leaning forward. "And I'll probably end up marrying her. It's simple."

"You're meant to be with people you love," Daniel said. "Kind of one of the facts of life."

"That doesn't make any sense," Draco said.

Daniel sat up again. "You don't make any sense," he retorted.

"In the Muggle world, do people only marry people they're in love with, then?" Draco asked, a forced politeness in his voice. He really was making an effort, and it flattered and worried Daniel at the same time.

"Well, yeah," he said. "In Britain, at least."

"And then what happens when they're not in love any more?"

"Well, I guess they get divorced," Daniel said.

"Divorced?" Draco said, eyes wide. "What about the contract?"

It wasn't like Daniel was an expert. After all, his parents had only gotten married to make it look better for the welfare people. "I dunno," he said. "I guess they just break it."

"That's disgusting," Draco said. "What do they do, split the children in half? The estate? The — "

Estate. Jesus. "Not everyone gets divorced," Daniel said. "Only when they really can't stand each other any more."

"Don't you see how that's wrong?" Draco said. "To build your life around something that can fall to pieces so fast?"

Well, when he put it that way. "It's not like you have to get married to the first person you have a crush on," Daniel said. "You live together first, and see how compatible you are. You don't even have to get married at all, a lot of people get to about thirty — "

"I don't think I want to hear any more about Muggle culture today," Draco said faintly. "The fact of the matter is that I am not going to be so foolish as to have one person holding every position of importance in my life."

"This is ridiculous," Daniel said. "Doesn't your father love your mother?"

"Of course he loves her," Draco said. "She's his wife. She's the mother of his son."

Daniel stared at him helplessly, and wished they'd stuck to talking about hippogriffs.

"Okay," Draco said. "I'll explain it another way."

"Oh, goody," Daniel said, but got ready to listen.

"Marriage is a contract," Draco said, waiting for Daniel to nod before he went on. "It is a partnership between a man and a woman, guaranteeing financial integration, social equality and exclusive rights to procreation."

Daniel nodded faintly.

"The permanence of the contract requires that it must be entered into rationally, with a clear mind and an eye to its longevity."

Another nod. Damned if he was going to ask Draco to define longevity for him.

"To introduce excessive emotion into such a critical point in one's life is to endanger the sanctity of the contract."

"But it can strengthen — "

Draco held up a hand. "Let me finish," he said. "If one is to fall in love with another, this is by no means outside the terms of the marriage contract."

Daniel opened his mouth, then closed it again.

"The unity of the family must never be threatened by the highs and lows of one's love life," Draco said. "It must remain constant, for the good of both parties and their offspring."

What frightened Daniel, was that Draco's words made perfect sense. In a cold-blooded, sociopathic kind of a way.

"So you're saying you should never marry the love of your life," he said, trying to wrap his head around that idea.

"Well, just look at what happened to the Seavers," Draco said, and leaned back. Apparently he thought that had won him the argument.

Daniel had other things on his mind. He'd clamped his jaw shut to keep from saying something stupid, and tried to keep his voice calm when he eventually opened it. "What?" he said. "Who are they?"

Draco gave him an odd look. Daniel supposed his voice might have sounded a little strangled. "Haven't you heard of the Seavers?" he said. "No, I suppose you wouldn't have."

Daniel breathed in, and out, and in, and out. "No," he said. "What happened to them?"

"I never met them, that I remember," Draco said, settling into storytelling mode. "Idris Seaver was an offshoot of a very old family, very prestigious, old Celtic blood. His wife Adara was a cousin of my maternal grandmother. By all reports they were perfect for each other, with balanced powers, compatible personalities and nearly equal social status. The marriage would doubtless have been arranged if they hadn't been so madly in love with each other from the moment they met. As things were, the match wasn't ever going to end in anything but tragedy.

"They married without the approval of either family, and served loyally for more than a dozen years. People started to think perhaps they were an exception to the rule. Their love for each other didn't overpower their loyalty, as most had expected it to, and they quickly rose to prominence in the ranks."

Daniel swallowed the lump in his throat. He wasn't forgetting the object of the loyalty Draco was talking about, but it wasn't every day you heard stories told about your parents' eternal love.

Cautionary tales.

"Are you alright?" Draco asked, reaching a hand out to his shoulder. "Are you going to pass out? I could find a teacher."

Daniel shook his head quickly and avoided the hand. "No," he said. "I'm fine. Go on."

Draco's brow creased in worry. "Maybe put your head between your knees," he said. "Or lie down, or something.

"Finish the story," Daniel said, drawing his knees up and resting his forehead on them. Which had the added benefit of hiding his face.

"Well," Draco said uneasily, shifting in the grass. "I just —"

"I don't care about the Death Eater stuff," Daniel said into his legs. "Just finish the story."

Draco cleared his throat softly. "More and more started to be demanded of them," he said. "Anyone else would have killed to be in their position, but word was that they were unhappy with the things being asked of them. Nobody knows details for sure, but … "

"Go on," Daniel said.

"Adara Seaver was to go abroad for several years," Draco said. "Northern Africa, I think. She was selected and given the responsibility above dozens of volunteers desperate to be given the opportunity to prove themselves. Idris … requested that she not go."

_Fearless_, Daniel thought.

"They argued," Draco continued, voice tightening. "Father says that Seaver demanded to go along, taking their baby son along with them if he had to. He declared he would not be parted from his wife. No matter who tried to separate them."

Draco's voice tailed off into a hoarse whisper as he finished, and Daniel risked a peek up at him. He was chalk-white, and his eyes were unfocused.

"What happened?" Daniel prompted him.

"They were dead within the fortnight," Draco said, and stared bleakly at Daniel. "And weren't to be spoken of in his presence again."

It wouldn't be too suspicious to ask about the son, would it? It was a perfectly reasonable question. Tying up loose ends, and all.

"What about the boy?" he asked, before he could talk himself out of it.

Draco looked at him as though he had asked if magic was real. "In his father's arms," he said. "And that is why you never blur the line between love and duty."


	29. Possibilities

**After this there might be a little more time in between chapters. As I get closer to the end of the story, I have to write a lot of the later bits ahead of time just to make sure everything comes together as neatly as it should. This story has turned in a couple of unexpected directions, so I need to do a bit more thinking before I set things in motion for the end.**

**Of course, I might just get carried away and write chapter by chapter all the way to the end, and force things into place in slightly less convenient ways. Who knows.**

No, Daniel thought. That's why you don't sign yourself over to the Dark Side. Draco might not ever be able to see it that way, but Daniel had avoided the brainwashing, and at that moment had never been more grateful.

"He would have been in our year, too," Draco said, eyes slowly coming back into focus. "Can you imagine, seven boys to three girls?"

Daniel groaned. "I can't imagine another king of the hill next to you and Blaise, that's for sure," he said.

The idea of where he'd fit into his house if he'd been raised as a Death Eater was a disturbing one. If his parents had stayed "prominent in the ranks", he could have been right up top. Maybe Draco would have been brought up to respect him like in reality everyone bowed down to the Malfoy heir.

He could have been Lord of Slytherin, and had minions of his _own. _He could have a home that nobody could tear him away from, and not be dreading this summer, when he would have nowhere to go.

He could have had to struggle to say Muggleborn instead of Mudblood, and see Lisa and Dean, and Finch-Fletchley and Granger as subhuman. He could be preparing to marry _Pansy Parkinson._

"We shouldn't really talk about it," Draco said guiltily. "You're not — "

"In the old crowd," Daniel said. "Whatever, I don't blab."

Draco nodded. "Yes, I know," he said. "It's just a bad habit for me to get into."

"You know," Daniel said, thoughts veering about all over, "even with this bloodless version of marriage you subscribe to, I still wouldn't have thought you'd be considering it with Pansy, of all people."

"Well it's not settled," Draco said, businesslike again. "But her bloodlines are suitable, and to be honest there isn't much choice, unless we start looking abroad. Mother's not keen on that, and Pansy's father is an associate of my Father's so —"

"Listen to yourself," Daniel broke in disbelievingly. "You haven't said a word about _her_."

"I've known her since I was born," Draco said. "I'm used to her, I suppose."

Daniel sighed.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

They spent the rest of the morning talking about school, mostly complaining about Dumbledore's recruitment policies, and arguing about who would be the first to be allowed to create a genuine rune. Daniel managed to seriously piss Draco off by pointing out that of course it wouldn't be either of them, but Granger, or perhaps McDougall.

At around midday Crabbe and Goyle wandered up and around the hill to meet them. Draco abruptly stopped his rant about insufferable know-it-all Gryffindors, and rose to his feet. He offered Daniel his hand.

"Nah, go on," Daniel said, lying down. "It's nice and quiet here, I'll head back down in a bit. Enjoy Pansy's dazzling conversation."

Draco gave him a casual wave and wandered off. Daniel could hear him starting to tell his escorts about the hippogriff trial, and was glad Draco hadn't tried to talk to him too much about that.

He sat up once they were out of sight, hands hovering around his collar, trying to decide if he wanted to hear the voices again. He had just about decided not, when someone yelled on the other side of the hill.

He took his wand out of his pocket and made his way quickly towards the noise, staying low to the ground in case he had to drop out of sight quickly.

All that he saw on the Hogsmeade side of the hill was Weasley, staring down toward town, fists clenched. Daniel looked down that way himself, and saw two dark-haired boys and one blond one running full pelt away from the hill. As he watched, they made it to the buildings, and were quickly out of sight.

"Hey," Daniel said, slipping his wand back into his pocket and starting to stroll up to him. "Who shouted?"

Weasley whirled around, his face pale and distracted. "What?" he said.

"Someone screamed," Daniel said. "I was just, you know. Wondering who it had been."

"None of your business," Weasley said, scowling. Apparently this time, he'd been recognised.

Daniel walked towards him as quickly as could still look cool. "It's just some of my friends were walking this way just a couple of minutes ago, and I've also just seen them running away from you just after the scream. So think I'll call it my business, thanks."

"Piss off," Weasley said, and started to walk down the hill.

Daniel darted around in front of him, and crossed his arms. "What did you _do_?" he said.

Weasley was turning from white to red at a pretty incredible speed. "None of your _business_," he repeated, and reached out an arm to push Daniel aside.

Before he knew it, Daniel's wand was out and pointed at Weasley's chest. "No wonder Granger's moved on from you," he said. "You can't even think of a halfway decent lie to tell, can you? That's not just sad, that's _pathetic_."

"I'm not the one who runs screaming from a stupid phantasm," Weasley retorted. "You want pathetic, you just look around for Malfoy. Now get out of my way."

"In a hurry?" Daniel said, not moving an inch. "I don't see why. It's not like you've got anyone to go and see, do you?"

Weasley snarled, and pushed past Daniel, ignoring the wand that ended up poking him in the shoulder.

Daniel let him go. He didn't even know if Draco had purposely shouted to get his attention, or because he _was _just pathetic. Either way, it probably wasn't worth poking the angry Gryffindor over.

Then he had a thought, and ran after Weasley, who had broken into a jog himself.

"Hey, Weasley!" he called. He quickly put his wand away in case Weasley saw it and overreacted, and ran to catch up.

"Your rat," he said, once he was alongside the red-headed boy. "I'm sorry about your rat."

Weasley stared at him. "What?" he said, slowing to a walk. "You're _what_?"

"Sorry about your rat," Daniel said, trying to think of a single believable reason he would have brought that up. "I knew you'd had him a long time."

Weasley looked at him frankly for a moment, then shrugged. "He was getting old anyway," he said, his voice a little rough. "Probably best thing for him."

_Don't be too sad,_ Daniel thought. _He wasn't even a rat, he was a backstabbing little weed who betrayed your best friend's parents and got his godfather locked up, murdering a dozen Muggles in the process. It's no big loss. In fact, throw a party._

"What's your hurry, anyway?" he said, to avoid saying the other. "_Are _you meeting someone?"

"Yeah," Weasley grunted, and without warning started to sprint down the rest of the slope, his long legs eating up the ground so fast Daniel knew he wouldn't be able to catch up again.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He found Theo in the Three Broomsticks, sitting with Derrick, Bole and Bletchley, arguing loudly with butterbeers in hand.

"Hey," he said, not really wanting to sit and listen to their Quidditch talk, but wanting to talk to Theo.

"Dan my man!" Theo exclaimed. "Sit down, why don't you? How was your meeting?"

"Fine, thanks," Daniel said, reluctantly dragging over a chair and sitting down. "Did Draco come in here? Or Crabbe or Goyle?"

"Nah," Bole said.

"Only Pansy," Theo said, and pointed to where Pansy was sitting with Millicent and her fourth-year friends.

"Dumb bitch got stood up," Derrick chuckled. "She ought to know not to trust a Malfoy's word."

"Hoo, boy," Daniel said. He'd bet his wand the walk back to Hogwarts wouldn't be quite so cheerful as the trip over.

"Wanna beer?" Theo said. "Miles brought some fire along."

"Not really," Daniel said.

"Aw, c'mon," Bletchley said. "Nothing else to do in this damn place."

"You guys had lunch?" Daniel asked, feeling his stomach growl.

"We're waiting for Puker," Derrick said. "He's out prefecting or something."

"That's his excuse, anyway," Bletchley said, and the three fifth-years burst out laughing.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Someone pounded at Snape's door just as he stepped out of the fireplace, having completely failed, in a two-hour conversation, to convince Dumbledore that security needed to be increased on Hogsmeade days.

Without breaking stride he walked up to the door and opened it, bracing himself for all manner of cataclysmic revelations.

Draco Malfoy was there, breathing hard, smoothing his hair back and clearly still composing himself. As soon as the door opened he dropped his hands back down to his sides and blurted out, "I saw Potter in Hogsmeade."

Snape saw red, but pushed it down. He'd _known _the boy had been up to something by that statue on the third floor. If Malfoy was right, and he'd been on his way to sneak out of the castle, then he was in for the tongue-lashing of his life.

"Elaborate," Snape said, pushing his way out past Malfoy into the corridor.

"I was just walking back from the Shrieking Shack with Crabbe and Goyle," Malfoy said, hurrying to keep up with Snape's long strides. "Weasley was there, and then someone started pelting us with mud. I got hit on the back of the head, then Crabbe and Goyle were hit, but nobody else was around who could have been doing it. I thought perhaps it was a poltergeist, but then Crabbe knocked into something when he went for Weasley and Potter's head was _right there_, up in the air."

Snape gave him the pregnant pause.

"I came to get you straight away," Malfoy said. "Will you be able to expel him for this, if you can prove it? I saw, and so did Crabbe and Goyle, and he's bound to have left some other evidence around somewhere — "

"Return to your common room," Snape told him.

If there was one thing Lucius Malfoy was good at, it was encouraging obedience. Malfoy opened his mouth to protest, shut it again, and turned back to the Slytherin rooms, leaving Snape to hurry up to the third floor.

Potter was there, predictably, face red from exertion, hair sticking up even worse than its usual obnoxious fashion. He wasn't yet three feet away from the statue. Snape was glad that Malfoy avoided conflict like it was the plague, when it meant that Snape could take his place in it.

He regarded Potter's son, entertaining all sorts of pleasant futures. There was so much that could be said, so many ways he could tear the boy down to size.

"So," he said.

The boy was no better at hiding his guilt than his father had been. No doubt he planned to fall back on his charm as soon as he was facing a sympathetic ear. He didn't say anything, only stuck his hands in his pockets. No doubt to hide the mud.

Snape had no doubt that Potter would find a sympathetic ear, and far too soon for anything Snape might say to truly sink in. Nevertheless, he would make an attempt.

"Come with me, Potter," he said, and returned to his office.

Potter clearly didn't find the decor comforting. Snape suppressed a wicked smile, and stood in front of him.

"Sit," he said.

Potter sat, plainly cowed. Strange, how even after all the allowances he was given as a matter of course, the boy seemed to think he could genuinely be facing dire consequences. And Dumbledore said that no good could come of Snape's hatred of the little wretch.

"Mr. Malfoy has just been to see me with a strange story, Potter," Snape said.

Potter maintained his silence. Not even an excuse, this time.

"He tells me that he was up by the Shrieking Shack when he ran into Weasley — apparently alone."

It was possible he was going into shock. Sudden, unexpected repercussions could do that to one.

"Mr. Malfoy states he was standing talking to Weasley, when a large amount of mud hit him in the back of the head," Snape continued. "How do you think that could have happened?"

Potter drew together all his acting talent, and managed to widen his eyes slightly as though surprised. "I don't know, Professor," he said.

This insight into Potter's improvisation skills was most informative.

"Mr. Malfoy then saw an extraordinary apparition. Can you imagine what it might have been, Potter?"

Potter squinted slightly, and his eyes darted from right to left. "No," he said.

"It was your head, Potter," Snape informed him. "Floating in mid-air."

Snape watched as Potter gathered his defiance. His eyes glittered in a way that made Snape certain he'd had what he thought was a good idea.

"Maybe he'd better go to Madam Pomfrey," he said, "if he's seeing things like —"

"What would your head have been doing in Hogsmeade, Potter?" Snape interrupted, zeroing in on that error. "Your head is not allowed in Hogsmeade. No part of your body has permission to be in Hogsmeade."

"I know that," Potter said, almost hiding the quiver in his voice. "It sounds like Malfoy's having hallucin—"

"Malfoy is not having hallucinations," Snape said. He reined in his temper, quickly reshaping it into quiet menace. He leaned right down into Potter's face, and told him the truth.

"If your head was in Hogsmeade," he said, "so was the rest of you."

"I've been up in Gryffindor Tower, like you told —"

Aha. "Can anyone confirm that?" Snape asked, already knowing the answer.

Potter knew it too and he went even paler. Snape couldn't hold the smile back any longer. If he couldn't have the boy expelled, he could at least have him suffering, not ten inches away from him.

"So," he said, standing up and planning to enjoy himself. "Everyone from the Minister for Magic downwards has been trying to keep famous Harry Potter safe from Sirius Black. But famous Harry Potter is a law unto himself. Let the ordinary people worry about his safety! Famous Harry Potter goes where he wants to, with no thought for the consequences."

He looked down, to see how that had been taken. Potter was still looking defiant. No doubt the werewolf had filled his head with notions of Black's lovability and courage. The boy had no idea of the danger he was in. Not that it would have made a difference if he had.

Time for a different tactic.

"How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter," Snape said. "He, too, was exceedingly arrogant. A small amount of talent on the Quidditch pitch made him think he was a cut above the rest of us, too. Strutting around the place with his friends and admirers … the resemblance between you is uncanny."

"My dad didn't _strut_," Potter burst out. "And nor do I."

"Your father didn't set much store by rules, either," Snape said, happy to continue in this vein until the boy broke. "Rules were for lesser mortals, not Quidditch Cup winners. His head was so swollen —"

"_Shut up!_"

The boy was on his feet in an instant, and Snape had to use every ounce of self-control he possessed not to flatten him out where he stood.

"What did you say to me, Potter?" he said, the red-hot fury slipping out before he could stop it.

"I told you to shut up about my dad!" Potter shouted, lost in his own, entirely unjustified, rage. "I know the truth, alright? He saved your life! Dumbledore told me! You wouldn't even be here if it weren't for my dad!"

Now that did feel like a betrayal. But Potter had brought it up, so Snape was perfectly justified in bringing the truth to light. "And did the headmaster tell you the circumstances in which your father saved my life?" he whispered. Even speaking might shatter his tenuous control. "Or did he consider the details too unpleasant for precious Potter's delicate ears?"

Potter didn't have any idea what had happened; that much was obvious from the way he bit his lip and avoided Snape's eye. Snape was surprised the werewolf hadn't fed him a sugar-coated version already.

That left Snape to give him the first impression himself. "I would hate you to run away with a false idea of your father, Potter," he said, enjoying the look of dread on Potter's stupid face. "Have you been imagining some act of glorious heroism? Then let me correct you: your saintly father and his friends played a highly amusing joke on me that would have resulted in my death if your father hadn't got cold feet at the last moment. There was nothing brave about what he did. He was saving his own skin as much as mine. Had their joke succeeded, he would have been expelled from Hogwarts."

There would be no better time.

"Turn out your pockets, Potter!" he ordered.

Potter didn't move.

"Turn out your pockets, or we go straight to the headmaster," Snape said. "Pull them out, Potter!"

Resigned to his fate, Potter slowly pulled out a Zonko's bag and a piece of parchment.

Snape picked up the bag and gave it a token inspection.

"Ron gave them to me," Potter lied. "He … brought them back from Hogsmeade last time —"

"Indeed?" Snape said, amused despite himself. "And you've been carrying them round ever since? How very touching … and what is this?"

The parchment interested him far more. He picked it up, and Potter made an aborted movement towards him**.**

"Spare bit of parchment," he said weakly.

Snape watched him very closely as he turned the parchment over in his hands. "Surely," he said, "you don't need such a very _old _piece of parchment? Why don't I just — throw this away?"

That hit very, very close to home. "No!" the boy cried, green eyes desperate.

"So," Snape said, looking away for a moment to resettle himself. "Is this another treasured gift from Mr. Weasley? Or is it something else? A letter, perhaps, written in invisible ink?" He threw out the ridiculous suggestion, watched Potter relax slightly, and then continued, "Or, instructions to get into Hogsmeade without passing the Dementors?"

Potter looked like he might cry.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel wandered around outside for a while, trying to see the world through Caden Seaver's eyes. He walked the streets like he owned them, swinging his hands by his sides, cataloguing students as he saw them.

Sixth-year Slytherin boys: pureblood. Allies.

Susan Bones: pureblood. Justin Finch-Fletchley: Mu — mudblood. Ernie McMillan: halfblood. Hannah Abbott: halfblood. Maybe. Overall, suspect.

Fred and George Weasley: blood traitors. Lee Jordan: unknown. Kenneth Towler: halfblood. Enemies.

Madeleine Jackson: mudblood. Walter Schmidt: pureblood.

Yolande Brocklehurst: halfblood. Dao Peng: halfblood, possibly mudblood. Ashley Ganfuss : pureblood. Samantha O'Shea: pureblood. Non-threatening.

Blaise Zabini: pureblood. Daphne Greengrass: pureblood. Allies.

"Daniel!" Blaise said, smiling widely and walking up to him. "Where are you going?"

_Caden_, he thought. If he was Caden, he could patronise Blaise, rather than the other way round. He was the son of the Dark Lord's top lieutenants, after all. "Hi," he said. "Just getting some air."

"You're looking pretty angry," Blaise said. "Something on your mind?"

Daniel looked at him, directly across, and something changed in Blaise's eyes. They shifted from casual warmth into wariness in an instant.

"Not really," Daniel said. "Something on yours?"

"We were just going to get lunch," Daphne said, nudging Blaise slightly. "Care to join us?"

"Happy to," Daniel said. "Not at Puddifoot's, I hope."

"Please," Daphne said contemptuously. "Some of us have class."

They walked past the tacky tea shop, and Lisa was in there, laughing, and Goldstein nodded, looking quietly satisfied. _Mudblood,_ he thought. _Halfblood._ Do not associate.

"You know what?" he said. "I don't think I'm that hungry."

Blaise shot him a wary glance, then something relaxed in him and he smiled.

"I don't think we're really a long-term prospect, honestly," Daniel continued, disgusted with himself. "And I don't think polygamy's legal, even in this fucked up excuse for a society. Have a nice day."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Let me see, let me see," Snape said, drawing it out exquisitely. He took out his wand, and set the parchment out on his desk. He had to keep talking to keep Potter from getting any bright ideas, but he certainly wasn't going to let the boy know what spells he was using.

He silently cast _apparecium,_ saying at the same time, "Reveal your secret!"

Potter was practically falling to pieces opposite him. He'd probably faint if he realised Snape was casting actual spells rather than just mouthing off at the parchment. "Show yourself!" covered an _ostendus officium_, which, like the previous spell, had absolutely no effect.

He took himself back a step. For all he knew, there was nothing magical to the parchment at all. Potter might just have a bizarre sentimental attachment.

Then he got a little carried away with the cover. "Professor Severus Snape, master of this school, commands you to yield the information you conceal!"

His _aufdecke_ did something, but it wasn't something Snape had anticipated.

_Mr. Moony presents his compliments to Professor Snape,_ the parchment wrote out smoothly,_ and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business._

Snape froze. If he so much as moved, he would explode. Potter, he noticed, seemed equally dumbstruck.

_Mr Prongs agrees with Mr Moony, and would like to add that Professor Snape is an ugly git._

Incoherent, enraged thoughts were tugging at him, urging him to lose control, incinerate the parchment, the boy, and then think up an exceptionally creative future for Lupin.

_Mr. Padfoot would like to register his astonishment that an idiot like that ever became a Professor._

Potter had closed his eyes. Perhaps he thought it was all a dream, and he was waiting to wake up.

_Mr Wormtail bids Professor Snape good day, and advises him to wash his hair, the slimeball._

"So," Snape said, barely recognising his own voice. This, finally, was evidence. Proof of Lupin's collusion, and the corruption of Potter. "We'll see about this … "

He walked quickly to the fireplace, and tossed in some Floo powder. "Lupin!" he called, "I want a word."

From the speed of his response, the werewolf had probably been sitting in his office the whole time, just waiting to give evidence if required. But Snape was caught up on the tide of righteous fury, and couldn't stop now. The thought that Potter had been surprised at the parchment's behaviour distracted him for a moment, but then Lupin was in the room and other things took precedence.

"You called, Severus?" the creature said, brushing himself off casually.

"I certainly did," Snape said, marching back to the parchment. "I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this."

Long years of practice had given Lupin an infuriatingly good poker face. One look at that parchment and it was on.

"Well?" Snape asked, when it became clear that the werewolf couldn't do anything else at the same time as thinking. "_Well_?" he said again. "This parchment is plainly full of dark magic. This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?"

Lupin gave Potter a quick glance to warn him to keep his mouth shut. Snape didn't find that remarkable; what he found remarkable was that the two of them had apparently grown so close that Potter picked up on the subtle cue, and sat back a little.

"Full of dark magic?" Lupin said doubtfully, just as though Snape were one of his students having presented him with a flawed hypothesis. "Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who tries to read it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop."

"Indeed?" Snape cut in. He _hated_ it when people had no fear of lying to him. "You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it _directly from the manufacturers_?"

Lupin didn't give away a thing. More surprisingly, neither did Potter.

"You mean, from Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?" Lupin said, like he'd never so much as _heard _of Peter Pettigrew. "Harry, do you know any of these men?"

"No," Potter said immediately.

"You see, Severus?" Lupin said. "It looks like a Zonko product to me — "

Then there was a Weasley in his office, coughing and wheezing, not bothering to close the door behind him. "I gave Harry that stuff," he said, needing to take a breath for each individual word. "Bought it in Zonkos ages ago … "

"Well!" said Lupin, understandably delighted. "That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?"

That was low. Neither of the idiot Gryffindor boys realised what the werewolf was saying, but Snape noticed, as Lupin had known he would.

"Harry, Ron, come with me," Lupin continued. "I need a word about my vampire essay. Excuse us, Severus."

Then they were gone, and Snape was left wondering how exactly Lupin had developed such a flawless persona. He certainly hadn't learned it from his Gryffindor fellows.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Hey," Daniel said. "I've got something to tell you." He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it earlier. The perfect person to talk about it with, hidden in his bag all along.

"Sounds dramatic," Black said, leaning back against the wall and folding his arms, looking warily down at the mirror. "Is it good news, or bad?"

"Not really either," Daniel said. "It's nothing to do with you, don't worry about that."

"I never worry," Black claimed absurdly.

"I just figured I know a lot of stuff about you, and you're trusting me with it and everything," Daniel said. "But all you know about me is that I'm Daniel from Slytherin."

"I know a whole lot more than _that_," Black announced triumphantly. "You might be surprised how much I know about you."

"Oh, yeah?" Daniel said. "What, you've noticed the tan line around my ring finger and that my pocketwatch has scratches around the place you wind it up?"

"You think you're Muggleborn," Black said. "But you're not."

"Oh, that's unfair," Daniel said. "That was _my_ news."

Black laughed. "Sorry," he said. "Stealing other people's thunder is kind of a hobby of mine."

"Fine," Daniel said, disgruntled. "What makes you say I'm not Muggleborn?"

"You remind me of my aunt Druella," Black said. "I'm certain you have Rosier blood in you. It's the mouth, I think."

There was only one way Daniel could get the element of surprise back from here. "My parents were Idris and Adara Seaver," he announced.

"Oh," Black said.

"I just found out this year," Daniel said quickly. "I was raised by Muggles, so I'm not a Death Eater or anything."

Black laughed. Daniel jumped. "I know you're not a Death Eater," the man said. "How could you be, when Voldemort's gone?"

Daniel frowned. "You know what I mean," he said. "I don't really feel like a pureblood. I tried, but it didn't last."

"I met Idris Seaver a few times," Black said, looking at Daniel thoughtfully. "He got on quite well with my father, but I didn't think he was so bad. I don't think Adara liked my family; I didn't see much of her. I didn't realise they had a son."

"Why not?"

"I was pretty thoroughly estranged by then, you realise," Black said. "I didn't exactly get regular owls from my dear deranged mother."

"I _didn't_ realise that," Daniel said. "I was brought up by Muggles. That's why I wanted to talk to you. We're kind of the same."

Black grimaced. "Are we?"

"Not being our blood," Daniel said. "I mean, you've taken it further, obviously, but I was talking to … a housemate of mine today, and it was really disturbing, the way he thinks about some things. I don't want to draw attention to the fact that I'm different, but I need to understand where the hell they're all coming from."

Black was still smiling a little, and looking at Daniel with a misty kind of fondness. "You're imagining what might have been," he said wistfully.

"Yeah," Daniel said. "Pointless, I know."

"It isn't," Black said quickly. "It's absolutely crucial."

Daniel hadn't been expecting _that_. Black was looking utterly focused, his pale grey eyes locked onto Daniel's. "You _have_ to imagine," he said slowly and forcefully. "Otherwise you'll never be able to figure out who you _are_."

"I can't even imagine growing up in a family like Dr— most Slytherin ones," Daniel said, as he realised what he'd really wanted to find out from Black. "How did you not end up like all the rest of them?"

Black's eyes grew old and sad, and he gave a small sigh. "I got sorted into Gryffindor," he said simply. "It was where I belonged."

"Do you —" Daniel started, then broke off. "Do you think … "

Black touched the tips of two of his fingers to the mirror, gaze still intense. "I know that the Seavers loved each other above all else," he said. "They were famous for it. I have no doubt they would have extended the same to you, and you could have been anything you wanted to be."

"I would have wanted to be like them," Daniel blurted out. "I know I would."

"We're born to be who we are," Black said, still not letting Daniel look away. "I was born a Gryffindor, and because I was also born a Black, I didn't belong with my own family. You were born yourself, and you will be yourself no matter where you grow up, or what happens to you."

"So the Slytherin kids," Daniel said. "The ones who turn out bad, I mean. You think they'd have turned out that way even if they'd been raised by Muggles like me? Or by Weasleys, or a pack of wolves?"

"They wouldn't have as much opportunity to act on it," Black said. "but the rot would be there, I have no doubt. Look at Peter. Halfblood parents, very nice people. Gentle. He was sorted into Gryffindor, so he hung around me and James. Sorted into Slytherin, he'd have been a Death Eater quick as blinking. I see that now. It was just who he was."

"So why _was_ he sorted into Gryffindor?" Daniel asked, thinking again about Longbottom. "The only brave thing I ever heard of him doing is tracking you down and confronting you. Which doesn't count now, obviously."

Black frowned, and lifted his hand off the mirror. "I wondered that, sometimes," he admitted. "Moony wasn't like me and James, but when it mattered he had more courage than either of us. We were always happy to throw ourselves in harm's way and take stupid risks in the name of adventure, but stuff like that worried Moony. He went through it anyway, and he never made a fuss."

"I asked about Pettigrew," Daniel reminded him.

Black blinked. "I know," he said. "I was getting to that."

Then he didn't say anything for a while.

"Peter wasn't smart," Black said. "In fact, he was pretty hopeless when it came to most things. He'd do anything to avoid hard work, he obviously wasn't a paragon of loyalty, and the only ambition he had was staying unnoticed and unattacked. He wasn't a pureblood, anyway, so he had little chance of Slytherin."

"You're saying he didn't belong anywhere?" Daniel said. "He was so dumb and lazy that he got sorted into Gryffindor by default?" That could explain a lot. A _hell _of a lot.

Black shrugged. "I guess it takes some courage to go up there and get sorted in front of everyone. Probably the bravest thing he did in his whole life, actually, but it was all the hat could find in his empty excuse for a head."

"That's stupid," Daniel proclaimed. "Longbottom got sorted into Gryffindor too, and he's a coward, but as far as I can tell he _does _work, and I've never been able to work out why he wasn't a Hufflepuff."

"Probably hidden depths," Black said. "Sometimes people have those. Though more often they just end up getting lucky."


	30. Victory and Defeat

"Um," Daniel said. "You knew Pettigrew pretty well, I guess."

That incredibly intelligent comment had Black raising his eyebrows.

"What I mean," Daniel said quickly, "is that you said he was shit at most stuff. Magic, too?"

Black nodded. "Magic especially," he said.

"But he was an Animagus," Daniel said. "And he did that blast when he escaped. If he was as pathetic as you say, how come he could do all that stuff?"

A shadow of a smile passed over Black's face. "I'm teaching _you_ the transformation," he said, sounding oddly subdued. "If I can teach a blockhead like you, I can teach anyone."

"Ha," Daniel said. "Don't avoid the question."

"Peter got vicious when he had his back to the wall," Black said. "You could have a go at him now and again without too much trouble, but if you took it too far he was liable to explode. Like little kids who shatter glass and start fires when they don't like getting sent to bed early. I don't think he could get enough of a grasp on his own magic to get moments like that under control, even after he was at school."

Well, that _kind _of explained the Animagus, and Daniel could believe about the explosion. Which left only the example he really didn't want to talk about. Even the thought of it sent shivers down his spine.

"Do you think he could cast Obliviate? Or Crucio?" he asked reluctantly. "I mean, we're assuming it was him up there and he attacked me, but there was a whole list of spells like Stupefy and Confundus and everything. That's not easy stuff."

"If you'd put him in a corner, I can believe he had enough raw power to make up for his lack of actual skill in casting the rest," Black said, apparently not noticing Daniel's uneasiness. "You lost a week flat, and that's not how Obliviate is supposed to work. If he just shot power behind the spell without really knowing how to cast it, that's how I'd imagine it would come out. "

The dispassionate way Black was talking helped. And the fact that the guy they were talking about was stone cold dead.

"Can you teach me actual defensive spells?" Daniel asked. "I — I don't want it to happen again, and all we're learning in Defence is creatures. Nothing useful at all."

Black shook his head. "I can't teach you that through a mirror," he said, and Daniel realised that should have been obvious. He closed his eyes hard for a moment, then opened them again.

"You need to practise it," Black said. "Get a group of friends together, or enemies if it'll help you learn it faster. And don't just learn Protego either, and assume you're covered defensively. You're best off freeform duelling, if you want to really be able to defend yourself. Don't bother with the official regulations, they're a waste of time. Just set your own ground rules and take it from there."

Daniel didn't particularly want to duel his housemates. Leaving aside the fact that he didn't know half the tricks they'd picked up from being brought up in the wizarding world, he just wasn't convinced they all had his best interests at heart. He didn't want to give Blaise, or Crabbe, or even Millicent, licence to attack him, and that was that.

"I guess," he said.

"You don't want to know what I'd give for a bit of a scrap right now," Black said enviously.

"If I wasn't followed everywhere I go by obsessive fans, we could meet up again," Daniel said. "It'd be nice to talk to you face to face for once."

"It would," Black agreed. "But haven't they tightened security?"

"Yeah, they have," Daniel said. "How _could _you tell?"

"Nobody's out in the grounds after dark any more," Black said. "Or even in the daytime, all that much."

"Do you even realise you're doing puppydog eyes?" Daniel asked, amused.

Black made an offended noise. "I am not!" he declared.

"You _are_," Daniel said. "And it's your fault they don't let us out any more, anyway. You should hear the theories on how you kept getting into the castle. They're _nuts_."

"It was easy," Black said. "You've just got to know the passages and the portraits, and walk close to the walls."

Daniel laughed. "I'll be sure and tell Dean," he said. "He's convinced you're the Mirror Master. He'll be relieved to hear you can just walk in."

"Mirror master?" Black asked, concerned. "What does that mean?"

"Oh, it's nothing to do with this," Daniel assured him. "It's a comic book thing. And a terrible theory anyway, so don't worry about that. Can we start on the next load of books now?"

Black shrugged. "Have you been able to do half-and-half transfiguration yet?" he asked. "Last time we talked I think you were going to find something alive to try it on, right?"

"Yeah," Daniel said. "But I — I don't want to try any more."

"Oh," Black said, and actually slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. "I meant to tell you, I am so sorry."

All kinds of shit flew through Daniel's mind.

"Animagus candeo," Black said. "Cast it on animals, it's a diagnostic."

"Oh," Daniel said, pleasantly surprised. "Awesome."

"It's a bit tricky, though," Black said. "We only ever used it on each other, so there may be some element of familiarity required. With the animal, or the wizard, or just the Animagus transformation. If you cast it right on an Animagus, they'll start to glow."

"Oh," Daniel said. "Okay."

"You can transfigure into animals, right?"

"Yeah we're doing that now," Daniel said. "It's not that hard."

"If you can't bring yourself to practise on animals when you don't know what they are," Black said, "you should transfigure your own. If you can get the technique right in creating a rabbit good enough for McGonagall, the rabbit should make good practice for the half-and-half."

"Okay," Daniel said. "But how do I know if I'm doing it right?"

"Once you've done it, try a transfiguration for what's on the surface to an entire other object, core and all," Black said. "If it doesn't work, that means you've got the tension right. And if you can wholly transfigure from the core to another object, that means you're even further ahead than I'd thought."

"Can I just try it now?" Daniel said. "I'm not sure I get what you're saying."

"Yeah, okay," Black said. "What can you transfigure so far?"

"Into bugs and stuff, easily," Daniel said. "We'll be doing fish next week, and then I guess reptiles."

"Do a beetle," Black suggested. "They've got solid cores."

Daniel rummaged around in his stuff for something vaguely beetle-like. He pulled out a hacky sack from a jacket pocket and grabbed his wand from under his pillow.

"_Skathari_," he said, and the fist-sized black beetle started to waddle around on the mattress. "Okay," he said. "So what should the outside be?"

"Something easy," Black said, concentrating. "Back into that ball?"

"I don't know a spell for that," Daniel said. "I'd just be undoing the first one, and I don't know how to only half-do _that_."

"Stone, then," Black said. "Stone outside, beetle inside."

Daniel sat for a few moments, going through all the steps he'd learned so painstakingly over the past month. Then, he took a deep breath.

"_Calculus subsiskatharo_," he said. "_Meversius._"

The beetle stopped moving, turning a dull grey and sinking deeper into the mattress. Daniel poked it, then looked up at Black.

"Now try specifically stone to wood," Black said.

"I just use bois," Daniel said. "I forget the specifics for simple ones."

"I never really liked using French," Black said. "Try calverto bois, if you must."

"Yuck," Daniel said. "That sounds stupid."

"Just do it," Black said. "It's not like you know another one."

Daniel poked his wand at the stone beetle. "_Calverto bois_," he said. Nothing happened. "See, I told you," he said. "Stupid spell."

Black smiled. "Okay, then," he said. "Try skaverto bois."

Daniel did as he said, and the beetle turned into wood. "Hey!" he said. "That means I did it right, doesn't it? You said!"

"That's really very good," Black said. "For a simpleton, you've got a way about you."

Daniel stuck out his tongue. "Okay then, genius," he said. "How do I turn it back to a hacky sack?"

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The next few days were trying, to say the least. Daniel struggled to keep everything straight.

Draco had somehow managed to avoid any rage from Pansy, in public at any rate. That, and he seemed far more comfortable around Daniel than he had been for months. But he still was grumpy about something, and wouldn't say what. He wouldn't answer any of Daniel's questions about what had happened with Weasley in Hogsmeade, and neither would Crabbe or Goyle.

Then there was Blaise, who had developed a slight edginess when it came to Daniel, who didn't see why one tiny little conversation like they'd had would affect him so much. It disturbed him enough that he didn't try his pureblood experiment again, but that didn't stop the thoughts coming to his mind, now that he'd opened the road for them.

It was hard not to notice that Granger had made up with Potter and Weasley. Between that and the Quidditch discontent, Theo was starting to mope an awful lot, and Daniel didn't know what would cheer him up. He tried insulting Draco and Pansy, pulling pranks on the Ravenclaw boys, distracting him with cool stuff from the Muggle world, and even sometimes asking questions about their schoolwork.

What he needed, was a distraction that wouldn't even give him time to think about Granger or Quidditch. He was thinking about it in Transfiguration the next Thursday, and decided to bite the bullet and suggest the duelling practice.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He brought it in the dormitory on Sunday night. He did it subtly, not wanting to disrupt Draco and Theo's argument about whether Gryffindor had a chance to win the cup.

"Hey everyone," he said, "do you guys want to start practising duelling?"

Theo glanced at him oddly, but Draco's eyes lit up at the idea. Crabbe and Goyle exchanged glances of their own, while Blaise stayed very calm, and didn't so much as turn his head.

"Fancy yourself a Lockhart, do you?" Draco said, arching an eyebrow.

"I said practise," Daniel said. "None of that dumb bowing and pacing and stuff, just practising self-defence."

"Feeling a mite vulnerable?" Blaise asked, but his tone was light and teasing. Daniel felt threatened all the same, but without much justification.

"I just think Defence is a joke, again, so we should do something about it ourselves," Daniel said. "If all us third years — "

"All _we_ third years," Draco said automatically.

"If all us third years practise against each other, we'll get heaps better," Daniel said. "We shouldn't wait to see if we eventually get a decent Defence teacher."

"He's right," Crabbe said eagerly. "We should fight."

"That's all very well and good," Blaise said, spinning around on his bed to face the middle of the room. "But duelling is against school rules."

"What's your point?" Theo snapped.

Blaise shot him a contemptuous look. "I was wondering if we were going to get permission to do it, or try to keep it a secret," he said. "And are we asking the girls?"

"If we get permission, we might find ourselves supervised," Draco said. "That's hardly going to be very helpful."

"And they won't let us keep it in Slytherin either," Daniel said. "You know the drill. Aside from Quidditch teams, everything has to be open to everyone. And of course I'm asking the girls. Why wouldn't I?"

"It's a good idea," Blaise said. "I'm all for it."

"Lupin's useless," Crabbe said. "I don't get why we're not trying to sack him, as well."

"My dear Crabbe," Draco said. "We haven't been trying to get Hagrid sacked for months. Do try to keep up."

"I think Lupin's alright," Goyle said. "The best we've had so far, anyway."

"I say give Snape the job," Blaise said.

"And have him dead in a year?" Theo said scornfully. "No thank you, I'd rather learn proper Potions all through school than have one guaranteed good year of Defence."

"Dumbledore's just making that curse business up," Draco announced. "I don't think he wants us to be properly trained, so he doesn't let us have the same teacher more than once."

"That's ridiculous," Blaise said. "You hear that from your father?"

"He's mentioned it," Draco said defensively. "I happen to think it's quite possible."

"I wouldn't be surprised if it was true," Daniel said.

"What's going to happen to Lupin then? With the curse?" Crabbe asked eagerly.

"My bet's on Snape," Daniel said. "He's got to snap sooner or later."

"A duel to the death?" Draco asked, eyes lighting up hungrily. "Snape would tear him to _pieces_."

"He looks just about to collapse on the spot half the time," Blaise said. "I say he'll leave due to sickness."

"Destroyed by his own dark creatures," Theo volunteered.

Even Blaise laughed at that.

"Black might get him," Crabbe said.

"Why would Black go for Lupin?" Goyle asked. "He's after Potter, isn't he?"

"Goyle, I've _told _you," Draco said. "Black and Lupin were at school together. They were friends. So now they're enemies."

"Lupin loves Potter anyway," Blaise said. "Black could be going for Potter, and Lupin would probably get in his way."

"Right," Daniel said, yawning. "I'm going to bed."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

In History the next Monday Daniel was leaning back to lend Dean a quill when he caught a glimpse of Longbottom down the end of the row. The chubby blond boy was frowning over his textbook, sitting next to Brown. Daniel was pretty sure she didn't even notice he was there.

He got an uneasy feeling in his gut, and sat forward again. He'd never really thought of Longbottom as much more than the most pathetic of a pathetic bunch of Gryffindors. He was bad at magic, short, fat, and mostly ignored by his housemates.

Now, that really worried Daniel. He was just grateful Longbottom didn't seem to worship the ground Potter walked on. Not like … oh God. Not like Pansy worshipped Draco.

He put his head in his hands, and tried to be sensible. Longbottom wasn't Pettigrew, and Pansy wasn't Pettigrew. Pettigrew was Pettigrew, and he had been killed and eaten by a cat with an iron will.

Daniel really liked that cat. He should give it some catnip, or a scratching post or something.

Theo nudged him. "Draco found a classroom we can use for what you said last night," he said softly. "We're going to check it out after class."

"Cool," Daniel said. "Nobody but our class, right?"

"Right," Theo said.

"What are you plotting?" Terry asked from Daniel's right.

"Your surprise party," Daniel said.

"Murder," Theo said, at the same moment.

"Oooh, murder," Corner said, from Terry's other side. "Who's the target?"

"Shhhh," someone said from further down.

"Anyone whose initials are MC," Theo said. "So you really shouldn't be listening to our plans, should you?"

"Poor Chalmers," Corner said.

"_Shhhh_," they said louder.

Corner pulled a face. Daniel sighed. It was four months until exams, but certain Ravenclaws were starting to stress about the marks they'd received so far in the year, and were getting all uptight about paying attention in class. Even in History. Daniel gave them until the end of the week to come back to their senses.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"We should have stakes," Millicent said. Draco and Blaise exchanged glances, then looked to Daniel, but didn't object to her taking centre stage. Daniel was surprised she'd turned up in the first place. "Otherwise we get lazy."

They were all sitting around in a circle in a wide empty classroom on the fifth floor. Daphne's chair had vanished under her when she'd been the first to sit down, and they'd given the room a little more respect after that.

"We duel for sickles, usually," Millicent said. "But I don't think that would work in this group."

"Too poor for you?" Theo asked with a sour smile.

"Too much difference," she said. "None of us can match Malfoy there, so he'll care less about winning than any of us."

"I do have my pride," Draco objected. "I don't intend to lose."

"Of course not," Millicent said. "None of us do. But this makes it matter even more. Trust me, it works."

"We should practise specific spells for a while first," Draco said. "Then perhaps have a duel at the end of each session."

"I think we should have a demonstration duel," Theo said. "So we can work out what rules we need to make."

Everyone looked around at everyone else.

"Crabbe and Goyle," Pansy suggested.

"Daniel and Draco," Blaise countered.

"Blaise and Daphne," Theo said.

"Theo and Millicent," Daniel said.

"Blaise and Daniel." Pansy.

"Pansy and Crabbe." Daniel.

"Daniel and Millicent." Theo.

"I think Daniel should be in it," Crabbe said. "This was his idea."

Millicent glanced at Daniel. "Like to nominate an opponent?"

Well, wasn't _that _an impossible choice. "Not really," he said.

"Anyone nominate themselves?"

Everyone hesitated, then Goyle got to his feet. "I will," he said.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

They squared off across the emptied floor. Daniel met Goyle's eyes and nodded. Goyle nodded back. They drew their wands together, and waited for Millicent's signal.

"Three," she said. "Two. One. …"

Goyle went straight for the jugular, like Daniel had thought he would.

"_Consenescus mano!_" the bigger boy shouted, wand aimed at Daniel's wand hand.

Daniel moved exactly as Goyle did, as close to a perfect mirror as he could. As Goyle cast his hex, Daniel tried out something Black had told him about. "_Ddrych," _he said quietly, timing it so Goyle's bellow drowned out his own incantation.

Then he threw himself to the side, and watched as Goyle stood in confusion, then almost dropped his wand as he was hit with a copy of his own butterfingers hex.

Daniel scrambled to his feet and to the side, and cast expelliarmus before Goyle could recover fully. Goyle turned his back to Daniel. Daniel cast quietus on himself, and then sonorus on Goyle.

When Goyle turned back, his wand was in his right hand and he was already halfway through casting what looked like an expelliarmus of his own.

Daniel avoided it easily. Goyle didn't have the best aim, even when he was using his preferred hand.

He didn't want to pull anything else out from the bag of tricks Black had given him, but he really did want to win, and Goyle was _tough_.

Daniel stomped his left foot, and Goyle's hand moved automatically to cover the movement. Daniel snapped his hand straight up, and muttered, "_Petrificus totalus_."

Goyle tried to block it, but with his right hand he had the angle wrong, and his body snapped into a rigid line. Daniel ran up to him and put a hand on his chest so he wouldn't topple over, keeping a careful eye on the wand stuck in his grip, just in case. Last thing he wanted was to be suckered in a duel by Gregory Goyle.

"Bravo," Theo said. "Though it was a bit of an anti-climax, really."

Millicent came over and cast finite incantatem over both of them. Goyle winced, rubbed his wand hand and offered it to Daniel to shake. Daniel took it, and wondered why he'd volunteered. There was nothing but level acceptance in Goyle's dark blue eyes, and then he was walking back to Crabbe, and Theo was coming up to talk to Daniel.

"What was that first spell?" he asked, eyes greedy. "It was _sweet_."

"Wouldn't you like to know," Daniel said, and gave his undivided attention to Millicent, who was asking for suggestions of rules they should implement.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Snape quite frankly did not have the time or the inclination to worry about Livingstone, whatever Dumbledore might think of the matter. He was busy watching Lupin even more closely, and though Potter didn't _seem _to be flouting the security restrictions, that was no reason to trust that it was so. The two of them continued their weekly assignations, and nobody seemed to think anything was untoward.

Snape couldn't simply begin to hold such meetings with Livingstone. Not only was he himself increasingly occupied with other matters, he doubted that Livingstone would even wish to attend. If that boy wanted further discussion, he would have sought it out.

He could not simply find the truth to any questions he might have behind the boy's eyes, not with his precocious grasp of mental magic. Trust or not, if he sensed Snape trying anything on him, he'd raise hell.

His work in Potions remained at least satisfactory, so Snape couldn't pull him up on that. To do so on general academic negligence would also be regarded as unfair, since Snape had never taken such an interest in his barely scraping through before. Snape did not want to deal with a truculent Livingstone, not when things seemed to be settling down for the boy.

No, Livingstone was doing well on his own, and Snape did not want to compromise that. Taking the long view, it was best if Snape didn't appear to pay him any special attention, for everybody's sake. The easiest way to give that impression was to not pay him any special attention.

He saved all his extra attention for Lupin, Potter, and Black.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Okay," Draco said. "When I win, you have to go flying with me. Two hours at least."

"That's dumb," Daniel said. He was then torn between protesting flying wasn't generally considered a punishment, and saying he hated flying and really, really didn't want to do it. Which was kind of the point of the exercise. "I don't have a broom."

"There are spare brooms in the Quidditch shed," Draco said. "Or you could borrow someone's, that doesn't matter."

"If you lose to me," Daniel said. "Then you have to wear Muggle clothes out in public for two hours. Without telling people why."

"No!" Draco said. "Not a chance. That is out of the question."

Daniel shrugged. "I hate flying. You hate Muggles. Two hours each. At least yours doesn't put you in physical danger."

"Yes it does," Draco snapped. "Do you have any idea what my father would say if he heard _that_? He'd probably come and kill you, and _then_ it'd be my turn. I'm not doing it."

"Then I'm not flying," Daniel said. "And I don't have a single other idea."

Draco was seriously struggling. "I don't have any M—" he said, then broke off and sighed. Then he smiled. "Fine," he said. "It's not like I'm going to lose anyway."

He was probably right, too.

Brilliant.

With that agreed, they looked around to where the others were sitting in pairs, discussing terms of their own. Millicent, as self-appointed chief of duelling, was sitting in the teacher's chair with her feet up on the desk, looking over them all in satisfaction.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Millicent decided that Daniel and Draco, since they had agreed to terms first, should be the first to duel. Daniel felt the adrenaline start to pump through his body as soon as he stood up. This was definitely different to the little exhibition he'd put on with Goyle. Millicent was right. They had something to fight for.

The others cleared the chairs and tables out of the way, and went to stand up at the front of the room, well out of the way. Millicent stood in front of them, and went through the whole no-deadly-curses-don't-involve-any-bystanders spiel.

Then she counted them in, and at the exact same point sometime before "one", they both sidestepped, and turned side-on to each other.

Someone laughed, but Daniel couldn't spare the attention to think who it had been. Draco was shifting his wand around, watching Daniel closely, tensed to react as soon as Daniel moved.

Daniel made as if to cast expelliarmus, but pulled out at the last minute.

Draco cast protego, and a pale silver light formed in a globe around him before fading out of sight.

Shit.

Draco smirked, and stepped back.

"Looking forward to your flight?" he said, twirling his wand in his hands.

With a series of "Bam!"s, Daniel set off flashes of noise and light in front of Draco's face while he slid around a little and sent out a sonorus, mostly because he didn't have any better ideas.

Draco's spell came out of nowhere. Daniel felt a surge through his body, and then couldn't move his feet.

"_Finite_!" he cried, and felt the spell lift. He tried out one of the new ones, with no idea if it would work or not "_Paramelsh!_"

Draco's spell was coming in, a beam of brilliant green light. Daniel hadn't even been paying attention to what he was hearing.

He dropped down to the ground, over his wand, and the spell flew over him.

Still on his belly, he shoved his wand out to Draco's feet and gasped, "_Ruo!_"

Draco had just muttered, "_Congelo,_" when Daniel's spell dragged his feet sideways and he tumbled to the floor.

Daniel's outstretched wand hand froze up, but he kept his grip on the wand and cancelled the charm without too much trouble. "_Pulso_," he said, to send Draco sliding along the smooth stone floor and away so he could get to his feet and try to re-think his strategy.

"_Protego!_" Draco shouted at the top of his voice. Daniel jumped, and found himself sliding along the floor, fast. He readied his legs to absorb the impact of the wall, and pretended to wave his arms around in panic. He made sure his arm went left, out, and then around in an arc before being pulled back towards his body, and cast Traho.

He got the word out just before he hit the wall, and his momentum somehow made him smash his face against the floor. He kept his wand aimed, though, and then Draco was running towards him, trying to slow down but being tugged helplessly forward.

With a frustrated noise, Draco grunted, "_Pulso_," and staggered back a couple of steps. Daniel scrambled to crouch with his back to the wall, ankles complaining.

"_Lubripes_," he said, and Draco stuck him to the wall with Setennio.

"_Finite_," they both said. When that didn't clear the floor of the thick oil Daniel had covered it with, Draco scowled and cast Evanesco instead.

Something in Daniel froze, then roared, and he heard Snape's voice ringing in his ears. _Evanesco,_ it said. _Scourgify. Episkey. Stupefy. Obliviate. _He tugged like mad to free himself, vision going dark.

_Impedimenta. Crucio._

"Stop," he gasped. His lungs were burning, and he could barely force the word out. "Stop."

He blinked a few times, and then he could see Draco a little further back than before, his wand partially lowered, but his face still wary.

Daniel wanted to throw his wand away to show there was no trick, but he couldn't make himself let go. "Seriously," he said. "Pax, or whatever it is."

"You yield?" Draco said incredulously.

"Yeah," Daniel said. "Yeah, I yield."

"Victory to Draco, then," Millicent said, and Daniel heard the scratching of a quill on parchment.

Daniel closed his eyes and breathed, trying not to tremble quite so much in front of everyone.

The suction holding him to the wall disappeared, and he jolted forwards.

A hand stopped him from falling, and Theo was looking into his eyes. Past him was Draco, hovering anxiously, a confused frown on his face.

"You okay?" Theo asked.

Daniel started to really properly shake, and shoved his feet out from under him so he could sit down.

"Get out," Theo said, turning away from Daniel. "All of you get out."

There was a moment when Daniel thought someone might argue, but no-one spoke, and he heard people leaving out into the corridor.

"He's my best friend," Theo said, and one more person walked towards the door. Something dark and heavy fell to the ground near Theo, and then Daniel heard the door closing.

Theo sat beside him, and put his cloak around his shoulders. "You're fucking nuts, you know that?" he said quietly.

"A bit," Daniel acknowledged. "A bit fucking nuts. Maybe."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

That afternoon's Defence lesson was about the Peryton, which was actually pretty cool. Daniel found it hard to concentrate, with all his classmates shooting him glances, from the concerned to the outright scheming.

It didn't really help when Blaise innocently asked Lupin, with a sidelong glance at Daniel, if it wasn't easiest to just provide the Peryton with a human sacrifice. After they had killed one they couldn't kill again, after all, so it was the sensible solution.

"You'd give them someone who was about to die anyway, wouldn't you?" Daniel retorted. "Like, if you knew someone wasn't going to live out the year because of _sickness_ or something, then they're a much better choice than someone young and strong, with a bright future ahead of them."

"Certainly," Draco said. "There's nothing in the lore about the _value_ of the human life that had to be taken, is there, _Professor_ Lupin?"

"Their hunger is for flesh," Theo pointed out before Lupin could answer. "So they'd probably take the tallest, or the heaviest."

Crabbe and Goyle exchanged glances. "But if someone else is right in front of them," Pansy said, "they'd just eat that one, wouldn't they?"

All attention was fixed on Lupin, who was wearing a small frown. "It is rare for the Peryton to travel alone," he said. "A lone Peryton would likely be more interested in finding others of its kind than hunting. A lone human sacrifice would do little to distract a flock."

"Live —" Blaise said, then stopped.

"The Peryton can be defeated," Lupin continued, once it was clear Blaise wasn't going to say anything more. "The slight instability in its form makes it particularly vulnerable to transfiguration, but there are several charms that have been proven effective in both repelling and injuring the Peryton. Who can give me an example?"

"Petrificus pennae," Daphne said. "It can be cast widely to disrupt their swooping attack."

"Excellent, Daphne," Lupin said. "Five points to Slytherin. Anybody else?"

"Sursus deorso," Theo said. "Covering the area of the flock."

"That's an ambitious idea," Lupin said. "What could go wrong in such a scenario? Millicent?"

Millicent sighed, and looked up from the book she was reading. "They can fly," she said shortly. "It'll just make them come at you upside-down, which helps them if anything."

"Facio onerum," Draco said. "Let them sink into the sky."

"Set a light up above them first so you can see their shadows better," Daniel said. "If only a few of them have human shadows, you can just stun them directly."

"They can still _maul _you, Daniel," Draco said. "Not being able to kill you doesn't mean they can't eat your leg off."

"You'd want to prioritise, though," Theo said. "Specifically kill the ones who could kill you, and deal with the rest later."

"Not if that means they've broken from their flock," Daphne said. "Better to take them all down at once, if you can."

"I think this conversation is getting a little broader than is necessary," Lupin said, just as it was getting interesting. "Twenty points to Slytherin for some ingenious thinking, but we'd better get back on track."

He flipped through some notes on his desk. Daniel looked at him, trying to decide whose side he was on. He seemed far too boring to be one of Black's friends.

He dropped his gaze before Lupin looked up and saw him watching. _Black's innocent_, he thought._ He's innocent and you turned on him without even looking for the truth._

Lupin started to talk about the significance of altered shadows, but Daniel wasn't in the mood to listen. He just thought about half-and-half transfiguration, and thought about what his Animagus form might be.

He wondered what Black was doing.


	31. Deals and Duels

McGonagall had blathered on about the complexity of fish compared to insects for about ten _years_ before she let them try their first fish transfiguration the next morning.

It wasn't all that hard to transfigure stuff into animals. Into dumb animals, anyway. He'd tried to make a rabbit out of a hat the other day, but had ended up with such a mess he wasn't sure if he'd ever try to make a mammal again.

He could manage fish pretty well. Except that first time he'd tried it alone in his dormitory, a few weeks back. He'd forgotten to have water ready and it had flopped around, suffocating, and he hadn't been able to reverse it for a few minutes. He'd had to cast Aguamenti at it over and over, until he could manage to turn it back into his sock. Then he'd felt pretty ridiculous for saving his sock's life and thoroughly drenching his bed in the process.

This time, there was a large bowl of water out on the table in front of them. Daniel had been happy to go first among the Slytherins, and ran his wand up and down the plain black glove provided them. "_Piscifieri_," he incanted, and the glove shimmered and changed.

"Piscifieri?" Daphne said, looking across at Daniel's writhing trout, which he quickly flipped into the bowl. "I thought she said piscifio."

"It amounts to the same thing," Draco said, glancing with a frown at the bowl. Daniel's fish was not only the first one in there, but it was perfectly formed, and vigorous. Daniel glanced around the classroom. His was in the first three successful fish, and he glowed a little inside.

McGonagall saw it from where she was standing at her desk, and walked over. She waved her wand over the bowl, then nodded in approval. "Ten points to Slytherin," she said. "Well done, Mr. Livingstone."

"Thank you," Daniel said, as she marched off to a group of Gryffindors.

With a disgruntled look, Draco incanted Piscifio and flipped his own trout into the bowl next to Daniel's. It looked pretty listless in there, and Daniel shot him a triumphant look. Draco ignored it completely and set to walking Crabbe and Goyle through the spell, patient despite having spent at least an hour the previous night doing the exact same thing.

"Why'd you use Piscifieri?" Theo asked, frowning at his glove. "That's not even in the book."

Daniel shrugged. "I heard somewhere it worked better," he said. "But mostly I think Piscifio sounds dumb."

By the end of the lesson, everyone except Goyle had turned their glove into something kind of fish-like, even if Pansy's had five heads and Crabbe could somehow still _wear_ his.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

After Potions in Wednesday of next week, after brewing what Daniel considered a pretty good Elixir of Equilibrium, really, Snape dismissed the class and asked him to stay behind.

Daniel had nothing to hide. What would he have to hide? He gave Snape a broad smile and told the others to wait outside for him. After all, there was nothing for Snape to talk to him about that would take all that long, surely. Maybe just a mistake on his essay. Yeah, a spelling mistake. For sure. Snape had been relatively easy-going this class. He'd only ended up taking sixty points from Gryffindor over three hours.

"That will not be necessary," Snape said over Daniel's head to his friends. "There are some things I need to discuss with Mr. Livingstone."

Daniel would have preferred it if at least Theo had looked at him before walking out, but he supposed Snape was the boss. And looking kind of scary at the moment. Maybe he'd been holding back in class and saving up all of his hostility for this little chat.

"I don't really need to talk to you about stuff any more," Daniel told him once they were alone in the room. "Things are pretty good."

Hah. He'd bet Snape thought he'd be the only one who could help Daniel. Well Daniel had friends, even if Snape had never had any himself. He didn't needa _teacher_ to be checking on him.

Snape stood up. "Come through to my office," he said.

It would be better to do all the talking, and stop Snape getting into full-on interrogation mode. So Daniel asked all the questions he'd thought at some time, didn't really care about now but he supposed he could do with answers to.

"I do actually have some questions," Daniel said. "I was wondering if people ever fly on broomsticks for anything other than Quidditch?"

"Yes," Snape said. "Are you truly well?"

"Hm?" Daniel said. "Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Right back into it."

Snape studied him. Daniel, who had nothing to lose and therefore no reason to avoid the man's eyes, stared back. Hopefully Snape didn't know some secret mind-reading thing that could slip in under Daniel's guard without him realising in time to look away.

"Why aren't we learning any spells in Defence?" Daniel asked.

"That is a question for Professor Lupin," Snape said.

"Then when do we get to learn Protego, and Stupefy and stuff?"

"Such spells are usually introduced in fourth year," Snape said. "Though such a decision is up to the discretion of the Defence professor. Have you had any further thoughts about the prophecy?"

"I don't want to talk about that here," Daniel said. "I think maybe there's something wrong with your privacy wards and stuff."

"I assure you," Snape said. "There is nothing wrong with my personal security."

Daniel shrugged. "Maybe. How young can you get married in the wizarding world?"

Snape lifted an eyebrow, but looked knowing.

It was okay if he realised Daniel was avoiding serious conversation. So long as the avoiding still happened. "Seventeen," he replied. "That is the age of majority."

"Is the Potions exam just going to be a practical?"

"This will soon become tiresome," Snape said. "You will not be leaving until we have discussed your wellbeing."

"Cast more spells then," Daniel said. "This stuff is secret."

"What is the basis for your concern?"

"Some people know what we were doing over Christmas," Daniel said, not wanting to drop Daphne in it. "That you were brewing, and I was studying and everything. Stuff I didn't tell anyone. Like they'd seen into the room somehow."

Snape got up and walked to a corner, waving his wand about. Then, with a sidelong glance, he starting casting aloud instead. Daniel couldn't keep track of the streams of Latin, but it washeartening to _hear_ the protections Snape was giving them.

Snape sat back down. "Satisfied?" he asked, looking like he was suffering a fool, and almost doing it gladly.

"I guess," Daniel said. "Do you think the Dark Lord's really gone for good?"

"I doubt that he is," Snape said. "My own personal opinions in combination with the intelligence from your parents suggest strongly that there are deeper plans being carried out."

"Well are you trying to find out what they are?" Daniel demanded. "Or is Dumbledore?"

"The Headmaster's business is none of yours," Snape said sternly.

"Well do you think the prophecy's right?" Daniel asked. "Where I come from, prophecies are a load of crap, and even here everyone laughs at Trelawney over hers. Why do we take this one so seriously? I mean, they said the Dark Lord doesn't believe in it."

"It is genuine," Snape said shortly. "However prophecies may be thwarted, or misinterpreted. They are not set in stone."

"Do you think," Daniel said slowly and carefully, "that I'll have to do something to get rid of him, if he comes back?"

"It is an eventuality you should be prepared for," Snape said, cagey as ever.

"What do you _think_?" Daniel said, forgetting that this conversation was meant to be just a distraction. "If I wanted vague, useless statements I'd be asking Dumbledore."

"I am not a Seer," Snape said. "I cannot know. It is my opinion that you have a far higher chance of success than Mr. Potter, especially with the element of surprise."

"Dumbledore can do it," Daniel said. "I don't see why it should be up to me or Potter. There are a million better wizards than the two of us. Dumbledore beat Grindelwald, after all, so he knows how it's done."

"Without question," Snape said. "The nature and history of prophecy suggests that should you defeat the Dark Lord, you will do so by taking advantage of serendipity, or by having unique knowledge or talent. In any case, it would be folly indeed to expect you to to pit yourself directly against any wizard so vastly your superior in open combat. If this is something you must do, it will be something you are capable of doing. Do you understand me?"

Daniel gritted his teeth. "What's serendipity?" he asked.

"Good fortune," Snape said, not a trace of scorn in his voice. "A favourable set of circumstances."

Well, that was pretty much what Daniel had been thinking all along, since it was the only way he could see him being able to so much as touch a Dark Lord of magic.

It was nice to know that Snape wasn't expecting him to morph into John McClane and sit the Dark Lord on his arse. That he actually found the idea as ridiculous as Daniel did. Daniel couldn't even beat Draco Malfoy in a duel yet.

"Yeah," he said, when he realised Snape was still waiting for a response. "That makes sense to me. I know I can't really take him."

"In any case," Snape said, "what concerns me more is your recovery from the incident in Gryffindor Tower, which appears to have progressed at an extraordinary rate since we last spoke of it."

"Well everyone's back in school," Daniel pointed out. "The whole problem was waking up alone, and I never do that any more."

Snape accepted that at face value, to Daniel's relief.

"I am glad to hear it," he said, and he did seemed to relax a little. "Do you have any further questions?"

Boy, could _that _question go places.

"Nope," Daniel said. "I have to finish my Herbology homework though."

"Do put a little more effort into your schoolwork," Snape said, in a tone that was half order and half casual suggestion. The next sentence came out as a deadly serious warning. "I would hate to have to intervene."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel walked out onto the Quidditch pitch way too early on Monday morning, certain he was only going to leave once he had a permanently crippling injury. Then maybe Draco would see how this was a bad idea.

"Why do you hate flying so much?" Draco asked, perfectly at ease. "It's not like you have a problem with heights."

Daniel glared at him. If Draco was going to try to analyse him, _while on brooms_, he'd be sorry. "I have a problem with heights when the only thing keeping me up in the air is a piece of wood only inches wide," he said. "Call me crazy, but I've never been a fan of bungee jumping either."

"You'll want to use this," Draco said, holding out the far less impressive broom. For once, Daniel's use of a Muggle term hadn't distracted or irritated him. "We don't use Tinderblasts in Quidditch since they're about as quick as Goyle in a duel, but they're reliable, and good for learning."

"I'm not learning," Daniel said. "I'm practising."

"Right," Draco said breezily. "Let's go, then."

Daniel sat on the stupid broom and pushed up. Yeah. Two feet up was a pretty good place to be. He hovered there, trying to sit perfectly still.

"You'll never balance properly if you don't move," Draco called from about twenty feet further up.

Well, Daniel knew _that_. He did ride a bike, after all. But _flying_. He sighed, and set the broom moving forwards.

It wasn't that flying was difficult, exactly. It was just such a stupid and pointless risk to take when you could walk, or take a Portkey, or summon a magical bus to take you wherever you wanted to go instead.

Draco dove down and zoomed along to his side. At least he wasn't dumbing down his flying to make Daniel feel less crap. That would really suck.

"Come on," Draco said, spinning around and flying backwards in front of him. "Flying's supposed to be fun."

"Why isn't it, then?" Daniel asked smartly.

"I've no idea," Draco admitted. "It seems to me that you just don't want it to be."

"This is stupid," Daniel told him. "You're bored, I'm bored. Let's just go back in."

"Not a chance," Draco said. "I'm finding this quite entertaining. And, Millicent would kill me if she heard I'd let up."

"She does take the whole thing pretty damn seriously," Daniel said.

"You're slowing down," Draco said, impervious to distraction. "Come on, let's go up to the goals."

The goals were fifty feet in the bloody air. But, they'd give him something to grab onto if he fell. He steeled himself, and flew forwards on a slight slope upwards.

Draco's angle was more than twice as steep as his, so Daniel threw a teensy bit of caution to the wind and sped up a little.

Lucky it _wasn't _windy, or he'd be shitting himself. Once Draco was about halfway up to the goals he turned sharply and flew below Daniel, circling him slowly, probably to reassure Daniel that he'd catch him if he fell.

The behaviour reminded Daniel so much of a shark that it inspired him to fly up harder, and sharper until he got to the goals. He promptly set to hovering beside one, one hand resting on the cool metal.

"Happy now?" he said as Draco caught up to him. "I've gone flying."

"We've still got twenty minutes," Draco said. "Come on, let's go across to the other goals."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

He lost to Daphne in that afternoon's duel. Which wasn't all that surprising, but was still damn annoying. She had neat, perfect blocks and could pick a feint with perfect ease. She favoured pinpoint Confuto hexes, and then as soon as she'd hit one firmly enough that her target was properly dazed, followed up with Expelliarmus and the thing was over. Daniel lasted maybe two minutes, but nothing he cast could get through her defence, and she stayed patient until he'd left her an opening.

As a result, he had to help her tutor her sister and friends in transfiguration on Wednesday night. For some reason Daphne thought that he would make a good teacher, and Astoria Greengrass had some things to prove to McGonagall.

For such a worthy cause, he couldn't refuse. He also couldn't refuse because he'd lost the right to when Daphne had disarmed him in their duel.

It made him feel better to know that Blaise had to shave his head after being soundly beaten by Draco, and that Pansy wasn't allowed to touch Draco for three days after being trounced by Millicent. Theo had beaten Goyle, but all Goyle had to do was call Theo "master" until tomorrow evening, which was a pretty weak punishment compared to the rest.

They made it to Defence just on time, and spent most of the lesson making sure Pansy and Goyle didn't break their terms, to Lupin's bemusement.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel went down to the library with Daphne after she'd come back from Arithmancy on Wednesday afternoon. He knew her sister Astoria by sight, of course. She looked a lot like Daphne if you looked closely, but from a distance, and from behind, her wavy blonde hair made her look more like a Malfoy than a Greengrass. Her eyes were more hazel than green, but when it came to the shape of her face, her expressions, and her voice, she was just like a mini-Daphne.

"Aren't you the mudblood?" she asked as they walked up to where she was sitting alone at a small table. She was glaring at her sister.

"Astoria!" Daphne said in quiet reprimand. "I've told you, that's not something we say!"

"_Blaise_ says it," Astoria said resentfully. "And you _looooove _him!"

"Daniel is here to help you," Daphne said. "Now will you listen to what he has to say, or shall I write to Mother and tell her how frivolously you're taking your studies?"

What? Daniel didn't _have_ anythingto say, least of all to this little snot. He could be talking to Black, and going through the huge list of incantations for transfiguring all kinds of animals, and both ways. Black had never warned him he'd have to learn spells for so many animals when he'd only be able to end up as _one. _It would take months, easily, to memorise all that rubbish, and all _just in case _something went wrong somewhere along the road with _one particular animal._ Madness.

Unfortunately, Astoria subsided. She took out her textbook and opened it, and then pulled her wand out of her pocket. "Fine," she said. "And then I'll tell Bron you're bossing me around, and he'll tell Elizabeth and she'll tear your _head_ off."

Heh. Daniel gave her a grin, and she stared at him in surprise before glaring at him suspiciously.

"Okay sweetie," Daphne said with casually insincere affection. She walked off, leaving Daniel to sit down next to this little angry girl, who was scowling fiercely after her sister, jaw set.

"So you don't like McGonagall, huh," Daniel said. Common ground was always a good start.

"She's always giving points to _Coote_," Astoria said in disgust. "And saying all this nonsense about how we're too young to do half of what we want to do, and we have to convince _her _what we can do before she teaches us the important things. She's _meant _to be teaching us. It's her job!"

"Coote a Gryffindor?" Daniel asked, pulling one end of her book around so he could see where she was up to.

"Yes," Astoria huffed. "She and Crowge suck up to McGonagall so bad, and _then_ they get touchy when whenever Snape helps us, even a tiny bit!"

"It's the same all over," Daniel said. "Get used to it."

"_You _don't count," she said. "You're not a proper Slytherin anyway. I bet they all love you. You're probably the good Slytherin, making us all look bad."

Daniel wasn't going to go into the best/worst of both worlds debate with this girl. "What are you doing at the moment?" he asked. "Still on materials?"

Astoria sighed, and brushed fawn curls out of her eyes. "Yes," she said. "It's boring."

"Show me," Daniel said, starting to suspect that she was really struggling in the subject. "I went over some of this just a few days ago, so I should be able to give you some tips at least."

"I don't think _you're _going to teach me anything," she said, but her eyes were looking a little desperate. "You're not a _real _wizard."

"We'll see," Daniel said. "You got some wood, or stone?"

"Why don't you just make some?" she huffed. "_You're_ not a first year."

"Because you're the one who needs to practise," Daniel retorted. "Not me. I'm just here because your sister is a bigger badass than I am right now."

She looked up at him, a bit of a puzzled smile on her face. "Badass?" she echoed.

"Yeah," he said. "She beat me stone cold in a competition we had, and if she can drop me that easy I shudder to think how you'll end up if you keep pissing her off. So find yourself a match or a rock or something, and show me what you can do."

Astoria pulled a sliver of wood out from a place in the textbook, and placed it on the table. She glanced around before raising her wand.

"_Lignerto ferrum_," she said softly. The wood grew slender metallic streaks, but didn't change entirely. She glared at it, put her wand down, folded her arms, and then glared at _him._

"What?" he said.

"What am I doing wrong?" she demanded.

Daphne must have gone around the bend, to think that Daniel could tutor _anyone_, let alone this little snit. Hell, he hadn't even been able to remember the proper Latin term for _wood_ the other day.

"I dunno," he said. "How does it feel, to cast that?"

"It feels like I'm not doing it right," she retorted, still glowering at him like it was all _his _fault.

Maybe if he asked her enough questions, the hour he'd wagered would run out before he had to try actually teaching her anything. "Can you do any other ones? Like put that back to wood?"

Slowly simmering, Astoria grabbed up her wand and said, "_Ferverto lignum_."

Nothing happened. Daniel wanted to smash his face down onto the table, but held back. "If you do it like you don't want it to work, it's not going to," he pointed out. "Half the trouble with magic is getting your head right to cast it."

"I want it to work," she protested.

She probably did, too. She just also didn't want a _mudblood _to be able to teach her anything, and was wasting his time with all this crap. "No you don't," he said. "You'd rather prove Daphne wrong and fail, than prove McGonagall wrong and do well. Because you're an idiot."

She nodded, paying absolutely no mind to the insult. "You're pretty good," she said. "For a Muggleborn. I thought you'd be … I don't know. Flimsier."

"Mess around with the incantactions," Daniel suggested. "That's what I do. If you don't like the sound of one word, find another one, or just say it the way you feel like saying it."

"We haven't learned any other words," Astoria said. "And we get tested on what she teaches us, not spells we make up ourselves. She's a real harpy."

"You need to learn transfiguration," Daniel said, "not come top of the class or anything. Once the magic's easy, you can force it through other words anyway. The magic is what matters. If you can turn an elephant into a jumping castle, who cares if you didn't get your O.W.L.?"

She blinked at him a few times, then nodded. "Okay," she said. "So what do I change?"

"Take lignerto ferrum," he said. "When you were first learning it, did you keep making the same mistake? Like, say, ferro instead of ferrum? Or dropping the g from lignerto?"

She turned a little pink. "I couldn't say lignerto properly, so it was hard to remember. I kept saying lignum ferrum instead."

"Try that," Daniel said. He turned her hybrid thing back into pure wood for her, and closed the textbook. "Lignum ferrum. Sounds better to me, too."

Looking doubtful, she poked the wood with her wand and incanted. This time, she ended up with a piece of iron with some wooden spots.

"Wow!" she said, then calmed herself down a little. "That's one of the best ones I've ever done!"

"Mess around," Daniel said. "Never fails."

She ducked her head a little. "Thank you," she said. "Sorry for calling you that name, before."

Daniel blinked. That had been the last thing he'd expected. "No problem," he said. "I've been called worse."

"Like what? Like badass?" she asked, leaning forward eagerly.

Daniel grinned."Wouldn't you just love to know," he said.

"_Obviously_," Astoria said, rolling her eyes.

"Badass is a compliment," Daniel said, "but I'll make you a deal. I'll share some rude words with you, if you do something for me."

She narrowed her eyes at him, but she looked properly intrigued. "What?" she asked, voice soft.

"Tell Daphne that I said something. But not that I told you to tell her. Say it casually —"

"Yes, I'm not _stupid_," she said impatiently. "What do you want her to hear?"

"Tell her I muttered something about knowing what Blaise was up to," he said. "Like, about him thinking he's got me baffled, but me laughing at him."

"I don't like Blaise," Astoria said sulkily. "He's a snob."

Daniel laughed. "Yeah," he said. "He is."

"He's making _Daphne _a snob," Astoria continued. "She was a good sister until she got all gooey-eyed over _him_. I'll tell her I was complaining about him, and you were agreeing with me, but then you said, 'He doesn't always know what he's doing, though, even if he thinks he knows everything,' and then when I asked you more about it, you wouldn't tell me anything more but you taught me about how to change spells and it was really useful."

Daniel was impressed. "Great," he said.

"Now tell me the curse words," the girl said. "I want one I can call Coote that she won't understand. And one for Ellen, but that one can't be too mean."

"What am I, a vending machine?" Daniel said. "We're in the _library_, I can't go swearing my head off in here."

"So cast a _spell_," Astoria said.

"Is Coote Muggleborn, do you know?" Daniel said, running through insults in his mind.

"No," Astoria said. "She's not. Her parents work for the Ministry. And I want a really, really rude one for Crowge. I guess you've used a lot on Blaise already, but maybe if you think of a new one, you could … "

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The weeks started to fly by again. He had a duel once a week, spent an hour a night going over incantations with Black, and by the Easter break he was starting to feel like he was on the right track with most things in his life.

He'd done far better duelling than he'd expected. He'd beaten Crabbe, though it had left him a bit battered and bruised. With Crabbe, it was a matter of getting the hell out of the way until you could hit him yourself. If he'd been born a Muggle, he'd have been a pro wrestler in a second.

He'd lost to Millicent, of course, and so had to partner Pansy in Potions _and _Herbology that week. She hadn't taken her narrow loss to Draco the previous week well at all, and Daniel's bones had ached for days after their duel.

The next week, Daniel and Blaise had haggled over terms for ten minutes before eventually settling. Victory to Blaise would have mean Daniel talking only to purebloods for the rest of the week. Daniel winning would force Blaise to open doors, pull back seats and graciously compliment any third-year Muggleborns he was within ten feet of, for the same amount of time.

Daniel, the adrenaline going to his head, had risked the whole fight on Blaise's reflexes. Blaise was smooth and technically sound, but his victories over Crabbe and Daphne had been strangulations. He'd worked his them slowly but surely onto the back foot, and then not let up until they were beaten.

Daniel was determined, win or lose, to get this duel over quickly. It might have been his imagination, but Blaise did seem to have been more wary of Daniel since Astoria's little nudging. A slow, humiliating loss would undo all of the distance he'd managed to put between them.

So he matched Blaise's relaxed posture as Millicent counted them in, giving him a look that promised a long and meaningful contest. At Millicent's "One!", he shuffled sideways a little and flickered his eyes around the room, Blaise doing the same.

Blaise started to murmur something himself, deep brown eyes watching Daniel with a calm wariness. Daniel nodded, as if to himself, and brought his wand up to his throat, quietus on his lips.

Then he drove his wand towards Blaise, and snapped, "_Pulso_!"

Blaise blocked it, just, but before he could raise his own wand in retaliation Daniel cast another shoving hex, and another, and another, forcing Blaise back quickly toward the wall.

On the fifth go he switched from Pulso to Traho. Blaise couldn't adjust his block in time once he realised the change, and was wrenched back toward Daniel, who disarmed him easily.

He really, _really _enjoyed that week.

He'd known he would beat Theo. His friend might have been a tactical genius, but he was painfully slow in the heat of battle, and tended to stick to plans he'd made beforehand, even when they obviously weren't going to work. Daniel knew him well enough to find gaps in his defences pretty easily, and hadn't been in the mood to toy with him. Daniel had been generous in his reward, only handing off all the History and Astronomy homework he had owing, to be done before the weekend, as well as proofreading for all his other assignments.

His victory over Pansy had been a beautiful moment. Somehow, she hadn't recognised Daniel's opening Expelliarmus for what it was, had produced the wrong block, and was left standing stupidly, her wand in Daniel's hand within ten seconds of Millicent's call to start. They'd agreed beforehand that whoever lost would carry the other's books around for a day, neither of them wanting to spent more time in conversation to think of something more interesting.

Daniel knew better than to get cocky from his short string of victories. Draco was completely unbeaten, and Millicent hadn't lost except to Draco. Daniel was stuck in the middle with Daphne, Theo and Blaise his closest competition. Goyle was hopeless, and Pansy little better. Crabbe looked impressive when he won, but it didn't happen often.

Knowing where he stood if things came down to a fight helped his peace of mind a lot more than he'd expected it to. And Draco had offered to start teaching him Protego over Easter, even though his own one wasn't much to write home about.


	32. Work and Play

As Easter drew nearer, life started to get a lot less fun and a lot more like work. He had essays due in every subject, and a ton of other work to catch up on as well. Even Blaise was showing signs of stress, and Millicent spent more time with the third-years than the fourth, for once. Whether that was because she thought she should be around to help her classmates, or because she needed help for herself, Daniel wasn't sure.

Things were even more frantic in Ravenclaw, and though Lisa was pretty even-tempered, the more time he spent with her the more he came into contact with her housemates, who were getting more and more obsessed with doing every single assignment perfectly and completely. It made Daniel's head hurt, the way they talked about "barely passing" as though it was the end of the world.

And then, as if that wasn't enough, both Gryffindor and Ravenclaw were starting to get into Quidditch-frenzy mode. Even though Slytherin didn't have a hope in hell of winning, the competitive spirit was flooding through Slytherin as well, and emerging as good old-fashioned Gryffindor abuse. Ravenclaw were favourites, but enough people thought Gryffindor could win to set the more house-proud of the Slytherins on the warpath.

So again, Daniel could really only find peace and quiet talking to Black. By April he'd learned enough animal-specific incantations to satisfy the man, so they moved on to what Black called the "back to your senses" spell. Daniel had wondered at the start how he was meant to turn from an animal back into a human without being able to talk, but Black had told him that it was so far off it wasn't worth worrying about yet.

Daniel was glad Black hadn't told him then, because if he'd thought he was hard done by with all the books he had to read to learn half-and-half transfiguration, or the long list of animal spells he'd had to memorise, this was actual hell.

He couldn't get any of the books Black recommended from the library, because there was absolutely no justification for a third-year to be borrowing _Resisting Offensive Transfiguration: Advanced Techniques_, or _Inside the Incantations: Variations_, let alone _Deep Transfiguration: Maintaining the Self._

Instead, he had to write down everything that would turn him into an animal while keeping his own mind, with a stable core. Then, he had to learn to run everything _in reverse_, without a wand or being able to speak an incantation.

He was sure he'd be able to _do _any magic that was needed, but all the concepts and laws and systems that Black talked about were way too complicated for him to make the slightest sense of. Black thought the best idea would be for him to break down each one so Daniel had a thorough understanding of what he was doing at all times. Daniel thought the best idea would be for Black to do all the thinking that was needed for Daniel to learn to be able to do it.

It took Daniel about a dozen goes, but he eventually convinced the man that if they were going to wait until he understood complex theories and N.E.W.T.-level concepts, he'd be waiting until he was old and wrinkly, by which time Black would probably have died of old age.

So now _Black _was the one doing most of the work, leaving Daniel able to keep up with his schoolwork, checking in with Black from time to time for updates. They stayed up late at night more often than was probably sensible for Daniel, trying to find compromises between what Daniel needed to do, and what he was actually capable of doing.

His respect for Black in those weeks went through the roof. The man could adapt any idea, and any spell, to whatever limitations Daniel put on it, usually in only minutes, and then change it all around again at a moment's notice. He'd heard that Black and Potter had been brilliant, but he'd assumed that meant brilliant for Gryffindors, not genuinely _clever_, like Granger or Corner.

He would neverhave been able to do this on his own.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

On the Friday night that started the Easter holidays, the common room emptied itself of third-years remarkably quickly. One moment Simon Black, a second-year Daniel hadn't spoken two words to before, was coming up to Daniel cautiously and asking him how to change transfiguration incantations to make them work better, and the next he was sitting alone at the table, with only a Potions book that someone had left behind.

Crabbe came up from the dormitory, grabbed the book and looked around the room.

"Come on, Livingstone," he muttered. "There's a meeting."

Daniel gladly shoved all his stuff into his bag and stood up. "Nice of you all to let me know," he said.

Crabbe just rolled his eyes and headed back to the stairs. Daniel glanced around the room and then followed him.

As soon as Crabbe opened the door, Daniel realised what was going on, and felt a bit thick at not thinking of it earlier.

Everyone was in the room, even the girls, standing in a semicircle waiting for them. Daniel heard Crabbe snort softly beside him.

"Happy birthday," Draco said, from his position right in the middle of the group. All the others followed his lead, speaking with various amounts of sincerity.

"Go sit over there," Draco said, pointing at Goyle's bed.

"It's my party," Daniel retorted. "And I'll stand here if I want to."

"There's cake," Theo said.

Daniel was sitting next to Crabbe in an instant, as everyone fussed over something in the corner. It was funny to think of Crabbe as younger than Daniel. Especially since he was about a head taller, and almost twice as wide, and so absolutely sure of himself.

"Did you have a good birthday? Back in August?" Daniel said.

Crabbe grunted. "Was alright," he said. Then, grudgingly, "You?"

"Yeah, good," Daniel said. "Nice to finally be a teenager."

Crabbe rolled his eyes, and said nothing.

"Don't you think so?" Daniel said, wishing the others would hurry up and finish whatever they were doing already.

Crabbe scowled fiercely, looking like he was thinking similar thoughts. "No," he said.

"Oh," Daniel said. He waited a short moment. "Why not?"

"It's stupid to want to grow up," Crabbe snapped. "Nothing good happens once you do."

When the rest of them came over though, led by Draco and Goyle, his dark green eyes softened a little, and even if he didn't exactly look overjoyed, he at least appeared content.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Blaise came storming into the common room the next night, and made a beeline for Daphne.

"Your sister," he said in a low, furious voice. "Is absolutely without dignity. You need to keep a much closer eye on her."

Daphne sighed, and gestured for him to sit down. "What's she done now?" she asked.

"I pointed out to her that she shouldn't be associating with Jennifer Lawes, especially when she is snubbing a Freelander to do so."

"Snob," Daniel said. "Theo, do you know why sunsnatcher thorns can only be touched by bare skin? I can't find it anywhere."

"She called me a 'fuckstick'," Blaise said. Daniel started to hold his breath, laughter pushing up inside him. "In the middle of the library."

He could imagine it so perfectly, and Blaise's confused irritation just added to the comic value. He put his head down onto the table, and shook with laughter so loud that he had to be hushed by people all around the common room.

"She did _what_?" Daphne said, voice dark.

Daniel caught his breath, trying to calm down, but something caught in his throat and he started to cough. Which just made him laugh harder, until he was coughing and wheezing and possibly about to die from it.

"It's only hand-grown sunsnatchers," Theo said by his ear. "Grow them by hand, and they're safe. It says in the extra reading."

"Astoria is consorting far too closely with halfbloods," Blaise said, trying to sound dignified. "She needs to be taken in hand."

Daniel sat up and wiped tears from his eyes, coughing out the last of his laughter. "Maybe you should just stop being such a fuckstick," he suggested helpfully, and a couple more giggles escaped him.

Blaise gave him a cold, hard look. At some point in the last couple of months, he'd stopped looking down at Daniel, and Daniel didn't know whether to be glad or terrified at the prospect. At the moment, though, he figured if little Astoria could stand up to a prig two years older than her, Daniel would be damned if he was cowed by a boy in his own year. He smiled at Blaise and rubbed his nose.

"What does that _mean_?" Goyle asked, frowning. "It doesn't make any sense."

"It's Muggle profanity, Goyle," Draco said. "Of course it doesn't make sense."

"Did any teachers hear her?" Daphne asked Blaise, still utterly unamused.

Blaise shook his head. "Only a group of Ravenclaw first-years."

Daphne sighed. "I'll go and talk to her."

Daniel grinned. Daphne going to tell her little sister off would only make Astoria more insolent, he was sure of it. "You do that," he said brightly. "We can't have eleven-year old girls insulting the great and glorious Zabini, after all."

"She's twelve," Daphne said shortly, standing up. "And if she doesn't learn to keep a civil tongue in her head, she'll get into more trouble than she can get herself out of."

Daphne left, and Daniel looked around at his classmates, surprised they'd all stayed out of it. Millicent had a small smile on her face as she wrote in her slow and steady manner, and there was a satisfied gleam in Theo's eye, but it was as if the others hadn't noticed what had happened.

Blaise gave Daniel another frosty look, then started to talk with Millicent about crystal-gazing, which they'd just started in Divination. Daniel sighed, and tried to find the rest of the information he needed for his Herbology essay.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The workload didn't let up when classes went back, and an obvious air of tension started to seep through the school. The older years started to get very testy about the increasingly unruly atmosphere in the common room. By Early May they were spending most of their study time in the library, leaving the younger ones to run riot without having to fear for their lives.

Daniel didn't really need much distraction to do as little work as possible, and without the calming influence of the O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. students, he spent most of his time fooling around with the enchanted juggling balls Theo had given him for his birthday. When you juggled them right, they had sound effects and light shows and everything, but Daniel didn't know how to juggle.

So he practised, much to the bemusement of his housemates, who tried to convince him that he should be studying. They stopped when he flung a ball at them every time they suggested it.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel wished that if Theo wanted to spent all three hours of Potions talking Quidditch with Draco, he'd at least have the courtesy to partner him so Daniel wouldn't have to listen to him go on and on and on and on and on about inverse formations and Hufflepuff's new beater O'Flaherty and whether delaying tactics should be employed subtly and Bletchley's tendency to hover left and how to convince Flint that if they underestimated Hufflepuff they'd probably end up _losing _and whether they should recall Pucey to replace Warrington and the limitations of the Freshet stratagem at any point other than the endgame and on and on and on and on and on.

Pansy, who was working with Draco, was trying bravely to look interested, but after an hour or so she gave up and focused on getting their potion brewed right. Crabbe and Goyle were making a royal mess of their potion, and talking loudly enough to make sure none of the Gryffindors could hear Draco and Theo's Quidditch talk. That didn't help Daniel, though. _He _was sitting not two feet away from it. Blaise and Daphne were holding a similarly noisy discussion across their bench to Millicent, who was working on her own.

In all, it was one of the loudest Potions classes Daniel had ever been in, and it was giving him a headache. He did the majority of the work, often having to stop Theo from doing something that made it painfully obvious how little attention he was paying.

Snape was up at his desk, watching them all carefully, warning Slytherins now and again but taking points from Gryffindors if they so much as raised their voices above a whisper.

At about the halfway point of the lesson he took a stroll around the Slytherin half of the room. He gave Daniel ten points for "an adequate potion", Theo fifteen for "his excellent observations regarding the capabilities of the Hufflepuff keeper", Draco ten for "maintaining focus", Crabbe and Goyle twenty between them for "loyalty to their house", Blaise and Daphne fifteen each for a "fine example of a confusing concoction thickened to the correct degree", and Millicent ten for "producing a more competent potion without assistance than many could manage with professional assistance".

After having made those comments, he paused right by Crabbe and Goyle to comment on how _vital_ it was to be able to brew an excellent Confusing Concoction. He suspected that there might be positive benefits even before the end of the school year for those who truly concentrate their efforts.

Then he stalked across to the Gryffindor side.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel went to the match. He couldn't really avoid it, but that didn't mean he was going to enjoy it. He sat with Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, leaving Theo to have his chats with whatever Quidditch nerds he felt like.

Daniel didn't know much about Quidditch, but he'd thought that Hufflepuff were meant to be shit at it. Jordan, the match commentator, was enjoying every single Hufflepuff goal. He was also mentioning every minute or so that _if_ Slytherin played well enough today, then they might have a tiny chance at the cup. As Hufflepuff drew further and further ahead, he said it louder and louder.

Daniel watched the chaos in front of him for a while, but it just made him dizzy, so he started watching Draco instead. From what Daniel could tell, he was just flying around making sure Diggory didn't get the snitch. Diggory didn't seem fussed; he was cruising around calmly, making an occasional sliding turn and setting off in another direction.

Daniel was starting to wonder if Draco would ever look for the Snitch on his own behalf, when Diggory slewed about again, and there was a low murmur from the crowd. Draco gradually turned about to follow him, then at the exact same moment both Seekers shot forwards and slightly upwards.

The crowd roared, rising to their feet as one. Except Daniel, who took a moment to follow suit. Flint scored a goal, Draco and Diggory slammed into each other, and Hooch blew her whistle.

"Slytherin wins," Jordan announced, sounding disappointed. "Two hundred and thirty points to one hundred and twenty. Draco Malfoy catches the snitch inches from Diggory's hand, and that's the end of any hopes either team had of taking home the cup. It's down to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw now, in three weeks' time. Now who's hungry? I hear we've got roast pork waiting for us for dinner! _And _popping mousse for dessert! Now that's what I call a meal!"

It was pretty sad when the commentator was more excited about his dinner than the result of the match, Daniel thought as he joined the mass of students traipsing down out of the stands.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel got a strong sense of déjà vu a few weeks later in Herbology. He'd foolishly decided to partner with Terry, not realising that in only two day's time Ravenclaw had their first strong chance to win the Quidditch cup in years.

None of the third year Ravenclaws were in the team, at least, but it didn't seem like they could really think about much else than the match. Corner and Goldstein were busy debating whether Page was better than Wood, whoever they were. Terry kept dipping in and out of their conversation, leaving Daniel to find the firmest douseberries on his own, handling them as lightly as he could to stop them from exploding.

McDougall and Patil were doing as they were told as usual, while talking non-stop about Gryffindor's Chasers, who were all girls, and wondering loudly why there weren't anygirls on the Ravenclaw team except for Cho.

Lisa was mostly listening to Brocklehurst explain in great detail the crush she had on Grant Page, who was apparently Ravenclaw's Keeper, and only one year ahead of them. Occasionally Daniel caught her eye, and she'd roll her eyes a little, but she seemed to think she was duty-bound to pay proper attention to her friend, for however long she wanted to talk.

That'd teach him to plant himself so solidly in Ravenclaw territory. He had absolutely no one to talk to, and as a result earned ten points from Sprout for his work ethic.

Ha.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel stayed up well into the morning of the Quidditch final working on his back-to-himself transformation with Black, figuring he could sleep for the whole day and nobody would notice he was missing, being all caught up in brooms and snitches and stuff.

Theo woke him up at seven o'clock and dragged him down to breakfast, and between him, Draco, Dean, Seamus, Terry and Lisa, Daniel was strong-armed into going.

All the Slytherin third-years sat together about halfway up the stands, talking down Gryffindor's chances, and wondering if the Dementors would come for Potter again. Daniel, still drowsy after only four hours sleep, sat between Theo and Draco and waited listlessly for the match to begin.

Jordan was a lot more enthusiastic, this time, in his calling. He announced each player as they flew out onto the pitch, overflowing with admiration for the Gryffindor team and with a healthy respect for Ravenclaw.

The match started, and everyone's eyes were on Chang and Potter. Ravenclaw was effectively starting two hundred and thirty points ahead, and if the snitch was caught in a hurry, Ravenclaw would win no matter who caught it.

Potter was following Chang around like Draco had been following Diggory, but he wasn't giving the Ravenclaw girl an inch to move. The Ravenclaws started a low boo at this treatment, but soon enough people lost interest in that and watched the Quaffle's course from one end of the pitch to the other, oooh-ing and aaaah-ing as players narrowly avoided having their heads completely knocked off by Bludgers.

"Man, Gryffindor is _good_," Theo murmured across Daniel to Draco. "We really got lucky with that storm."

Draco glowered, then perked up as both Ravenclaw Beaters zoomed straight up, knocking a Bludger back and forwards between them, headed towards Chang and Potter. "Get him," he muttered under his breath, grey eyes eager.

"Page flicks the Quaffle up to Stretton," Jordan shouted, "who needs both hands on the broom to avoid a Bludger — where are Inglebee and Samuels? — Bell takes possession of the loose Quaffle, and slams it past Page, putting Gryffindor up sixty to forty — the Ravenclaw Beaters are making an open play for Potter, hoping to shake him off Chang's tail — the Weasleys follow up the other Bludger, hitting it right back at Stretton — Inglebee's Bludger gives Chang a few feet on Potter, but that Firebolt can't be shaken off so easily — Stretton's down! Looks like a shoulder injury — Johnson and Spinnet play off Davies, who can't be everywhere at once, and Gryffindor scores again! Seventy to forty, Gryffindor!"

The crowd roared, and Daniel felt his eyelids drooping. He shook his head to try and clear it, but with Potter on delaying tactics and both sides playing well, the match would be going on forever, and he wouldn't be able to stay awake that long.

He yawned.

"This is boring," he said to the world in general. "It's the same as every other Quidditch match I've ever seen. I'm going back to the castle."

"Don't be stupid," Theo said. "This is great!"

"Look at Stretton," Draco said. "I don't think he can so much as twitch his left arm, but he's staying up."

"Stupid move from Ravenclaw," Theo said. "That kind of thing only works if Chang had the snitch in her sights."

"Maybe they thought she did," Draco said.

Daniel stood up, and Theo pulled him back down. He sighed, and let it all wash over him.

Someone poked him in the ribs. He jerked away, but his head had been on someone's shoulder, and his movement made him push further into _them_.

"Gryffindor's up by ninety," Theo said excitedly, from the direction of the poke. "Potter's broken off from Chang. _Look_."

Daniel put a hand on Draco's shoulder, and pushed himself up from it, gazing blearily out at the pitch.

"Whasscore?" he asked.

"Four hundred to three hundred and ten," Draco said, voice warm.

Potter and Chang were at opposite ends of the pitch now, covering as much ground as they could in their hunt for the snitch.

Daniel's mouth was dry and he had a headache. "Forty goals?" he said. "This game is stupid."

His words were drowned out by a massive roar from the crowd, as Potter spun around and dropped out of the sky.

"And Potter's seen the snitch!" Jordan shouted, voice hoarse. "Oh, but Burrow and Davies have the Quaffle, and are flying at goal — Johnson's been caught out of position! This game is a real test of concentration! Chang tries to catch up to Potter, but he's moving like lightning here, easily spinning out from Bludgers sent his way by the Ravenclaw Beaters. The Weasleys drop down to deal with that, but — oh no! Burrow's scored! If Potter catches the snitch now, scores will be level! — The Weasleys take control of a Bludger, and block Chang from getting too close to Potter — Potter pulls out of his dive, zipping in instead to support Spinnet against Davies — "

"Has it been like this all game?" Daniel asked, feeling a bit lost in all the excitement.

Theo and Draco were both on their feet, not paying him the slightest attention. Daniel used the extra space to stretch and yawn. His neck was stiff, and his headache was getting worse from all the noise.

Draco sat down again after a moment, but Daniel waited until Theo was seated as well, then leaned his head that way to try and fall asleep again. Better that than end up on Draco's shoulder again.

He couldn't sleep, but it was probably easier to close his eyes and rest than try to keep track of the match. There were various shrieks and groans, and Jordan was shouting himself hoarse even with Sonorus.

After maybe thirty minutes, Theo jumped to his feet again, jarring Daniel into being properly awake.

"No!" Draco cried. "No, he _can't_!"

"She can't catch him now!" Theo said, more excited that Daniel had ever heard him. "They're going to do it!"

The crowd was buzzing, ready to burst into pandemonium at any moment.

Potter was after the snitch again, and had left Chang in his wake. Two Ravenclaw Chasers and one of the Beaters were flying across just to get in his way, but he slipped around them easily, and reached his hand out —

Draco crumpled back into his seat, head in his hands. There were sounds of dismayed protest from all around him, as the Gryffindor section went berserk.

"Can we go now?" Daniel asked, rubbing his neck.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

With all that Quidditch stuff out of the way, Daniel could spend the rest of the two weeks before exams staring at his books and pretending to learn things, getting more and more anxious about nothing in particular as the days went by. Nothing he read was going into his brain, even worse than in other years.

It was easier just to practise the steps for the un-Animagus, and pretend that exams were never going to happen. He was getting pretty good at the individual parts of the reverse transformation, though he hadn't really gotten anywhere with combining them yet.

What he _had _done, and was properly proud of, was surprise Black by working out how to include clothes and possessions in the transformation, all on his own. Well, he'd asked McGonagall, but he'd also done extra research on it in the library, instead of wasting his time reading about countless goblin riots, which were all really the same when you looked at them properly.

Black had been suitably impressed, but had told him that there were easier ways to do it than the official ones. Then, he'd asked Daniel if he had any experience with conditional charms, and if so, how well he'd done with them.

Daniel admitted he didn't even know what they were. Black nodded, unconcerned, and said he'd think about things some more.


	33. Exams, and So On

The Transfiguration exam was a piece of cake. The water into wine was a snap, probably just put in there to help confidence. Of course, Goyle somehow managed to crack the glass, and his "wine" started to eat into the table before McGonagall could get there to banish it.

The only part that wasn't a pushover was the teapot into tortoise thing, and even that didn't strain him too much. He had to hold back his sniggers at some of the shit his classmates came up with. Theo's tortoise's legs were attached to each other like the handle of the teapot on each side, and by the end of the hour Pansy's still had a spout for a tail.

McGonagall gave him a grudging nod, and he revelled in the fact that there were no written exams for Transfiguration, Charms, Defence or Potions this year.

He rolled easily through Charms that afternoon, topping it all off with a cheering charm perfectly balanced for Theo, just like he'd practised dozens of times.

The Muggle Studies exam should have been easy, but written exams always found a way to tear his thoughts to pieces. It didn't help to have Granger sitting two seats down, scribbling away like a machine. In the end he just put down all the relevant facts and ideas he could think of, and hoped his vast knowledge would make up for his lack of any kind of organisation.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Since he didn't take Care of Magical Creatures or Arithmancy, he was maybe the only third year who had Tuesday morning completely off. He knew after the Potions exam that afternoon he'd be too burnt out to even think about ascension and declination, and the names of the billions of constellations he was going to have to record in his Astronomy exam that night, so he did what he could while he was still capable of thinking.

Potions was intense, but Daniel had remembered Snape's hint about the Confusing Concoction and did alright. Memorising one potion wasn't such a bad deal for an end-of-year exam, especially considering the nightmare written exam he'd given them last year.

Astronomy was an absolute snooze-fest. As in, Daniel actually fell asleep halfway through, and probably failed. It meant he was well-rested for History of Magic, though. His forced revision with Snape over Christmas meant he actually knew what he was talking about some the time, even if he didn't manage to write all that much compared to everyone else. Like in Muggle Studies, he put all the stuff he knew onto the paper and hoped it would be enough.

Herbology was mostly straightforward, but way too hot, and Daniel could feel his brain melting as he matched treatments to ailments, and tried to tell all the berries and flowers apart. He mostly watched Blaise and Pansy, who were pretty good at Herbology, and didn't screw anything up too badly.

His second-last exam was Defence, on Thursday morning out on the grounds. Lupin had set up a weird kind of an obstacle course, and as Daniel and his class arrived, the last of the Ravenclaws were making their way through it. Daniel saw a Grindylow, a Red Cap, a Hinkypunk and an old battered trunk at the end. Looked like all Daniel had had to do was study the first month or so, and he could have skipped the entire rest of the year.

Terry gave him a thumbs-up as he walked with his house back up to the castle, and the Slytherins gathered around Lupin, and he explained what they'd have to do to get through the course.

There was a Boggart in the trunk. Daniel headed straight to the back of the group, and quietly panicked. They'd practised Riddikulus, but never with an actual Boggart present. Daniel hadn't even considered that there might be one for the exam.

He really should have.

Blaise went first, head held proudly and showing absolutely no fear. Daphne followed him, then Millicent, then Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, Draco. They all came out of the trunk quiet and pale, but composed. Daniel waved for Theo to go ahead of him, and tried to decide if he was going to face the Boggart, or just get himself knocked out at the Hinkypunk.

Theo came out of the trunk and joined the rest of the class, who seemed to be cheering up a little as they stood in the sun, looking out across the grounds. Daphne and Blaise were holding hands, and Draco had an arm around Pansy's shoulders.

Daniel sighed, and made his way carefully past the Dark creatures, the challenges from them pretty straightforward. Then he braced himself, and tried to tuck away all of his fears and worries behind walls of thought. He didn't really know how to do it, but he was doing something, and it made him feel better.

Mind empty of forgotten tortures, world-shattering prophecies and Dark Lords, he opened the trunk, and ducked in.

It was just big enough for him to stand in, lit dimly, and apparently empty. He turned around to check that he could get out. All that he'd have to do was push up, and he could leave.

He turned to do just that, since apparently the Boggart wasn't here, but then Theo spoke from behind him.

"Hurry up," he said.

Daniel turned to face him, confused. He wasn't afraid of _Theo_.

Theo scowled at him. "Go on," he said. "Get out. You've lied to me, you've lied to us all. You're nothing like you pretended to be."

Daniel's felt the blood drain out of his face. What was funny about this. What was _funny_? He raised his wand, but hesitated at the look on Theo's face.

"Death Eater," Theo rasped, voice suddenly low and ugly. "You're a Death Eater, I'm a Death Eater, we're all Death Eaters. I was stupid to try and fight it."

"No," Daniel said. "I'm not a Death Eater. I'm Muggleborn."

"You're _not _Muggleborn," Theo snarled. "How dare you deny your parents, when they've made you what you are? It's in your blood, it's in your heart. You're not a little boy any more, you can't just put your hands over your ears and sing."

That would do. Daniel pictured Theo doing just that, and raised his wand. "_Riddikulus_," he said.

Theo jolted, and shimmered a little, but stayed fast. Daniel tried desperately to pack all his thoughts about Theo and his parents away, hiding them from the Boggart, but Theo was talking again, and he couldn't help but listen. His limbs were slowly freezing up, wand held fixedly out in front of him.

"You liked it," Theo said. "When you were thinking what it would be like to be a real wizard, up the top of the order where you belong. You enjoyed Blaise's fear when you stood up to him. Now you know what it's like, you can't walk away from it. It has you, and it will hold you."

"That's stupid," Daniel said, the words easy to say, to Theo. "I _don't_ know what it's like."

"You _want _it," Theo said.

"I don't," Daniel insisted. "If I did, I'd have told everyone already, and I'd have taken it."

"You fear it," Theo said, unflappable. "That doesn't make you want it any less."

Daniel stared at his friend, then closed his eyes and _slammed_ walls around Theo, and his parents, and that day in Hogsmeade, and every time he'd ever thought about the stupid Seavers. When he opened his eyes again, Theo was gone.

His parents were there, arms around each other. Not his birth parents, who he'd never seen, but his _real _parents, looking at him with eyes wide open in horror.

Daniel knew he couldn't afford to let them speak. He pictured the costumes they'd worn on his last Hallowe'en at home, glared, and said, "_Riddikulus!_"

Rick stared at him, Princess Leia hair curling at his ears, with a huge furry Chewbacca beside him, ammo belt and all, and a snort escaped Daniel before he could stop it. Rick drew himself up to his full height, still easily six inches shorter than Penny, and Daniel laughed outright. They winced, and stepped back.

Daniel forced himself to swallow, and breathe. "Pray I do not alter you further," he said levelly, and hauled himself out of the trunk and back into the real world.

"Excellent," Lupin said. Blinking his eyes against the sun, Daniel saw that the Hufflepuffs were heading down from the castle. "Well done, all."

Daniel glowered at him and stomped over to his classmates. He tried not to look at Theo any differently. His friend made it easy, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder, not looking at him too closely. Daniel crumbled all the walls he'd built, and clapped Theo on the back. With a look around at everyone, Millicent started up to the castle, and the rest of the class followed her.

He absolutely stunk it up in the Runes exam. Whether it was being disturbed from the Boggart, having had too many exams in one week, or just his typical freezing up in written exams, he could answer maybe one in five questions, and even then he wasn't sure about what he was writing. Which was a shame, because Runes was a really interesting subject, and he'd be sorry to drop it.

He finished all the questions he could finish, and then thought about what the Boggart had said. About what he feared, whether he'd realised it before or not. What had been pulled from his mind.

He rested his chin on his palm and stared thoughtfully at Draco, sitting two rows ahead of him, blond head bent over his desk, writing quickly and smoothly. Draco would be a Death Eater if the Dark Lord came back. He just didn't have it in him to break from his family. And even if he was nice to his friends, he still wasn't exactly a nice _person_.

Theo wouldn't turn, though. Every single other person in the world could start worshipping a Dark Lord, and Theo wouldn't budge. And if Theo didn't budge, Daniel could stand with him.

He hadn't realised until the Boggart had shown him, how much he depended on that.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

As soon as Babbling let them go, Daniel ran to the dormitory, grabbed Black's mirror, and shut the curtains around himself, turning on the silence.

"Sirius Black," he said.

"Hey, Daniel," Black said cheerfully, setting his mirror down on the ground and sitting in front of it. He was outside somewhere, the bright sunlight not doing his horrific appearance any favours. "Exams all done?"

"Yeah," Daniel said. "Yeah, they are."

"Ah," Black said. "Didn't go so well?"

Daniel started to tremble, very slightly. He clenched his fists, and nodded. "I've failed Runes, easily," he said. "But that's not what I wanted to talk about."

"Oh?" Black said. "Do you want a proper conversation, then, because I was about to go for a walk, take advantage of the weather."

"How about I come," Daniel suggested, trying to make it sound as reasonable as he could. "I'd like to be outside for a while, too."

Black frowned. "That's a pretty big risk to take," he said. "For both of us."

Daniel shrugged. "I think it's time we talked properly," he said. "It's nearly summer, and now's the best chance, while people are still caught up in exams."

Black paused for a second, then a smiled a broad smile. "Great," he said. "It'll be nice to have some company."

"Okay," Daniel said. "I guess I'll bring the mirror with me, and get into the forest behind Hagrid's, and we'll find each other from there?"

"I can just tell you where I'll be," Black said, humour in his voice. "I do trust you not to set me up, you know."

"This school's full of bloody mind-readers," Daniel said. "This way's better."

"I won't argue," Black said. "Just don't get caught going into the forest. It's still broad daylight, after all."

"Of course I won't," Daniel said. "See you in a bit."

He changed into jeans and a shirt, and his old brown boots. He brought a jacket to keep the mirror folded up in, and stuck his wand in his pocket.

He made it through the common room, where Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy and Theo were sitting around laughing. They'd wait until the other three were back from Divination before celebrating properly, but the mood was one of relieved satisfaction.

"I'm going for a walk," Daniel said.

"Want company?" Theo asked. Draco looked like he'd like to ask the same.

"Nah, I'm fine," Daniel said. "Just want to do some thinking, and thinking's best under the sun. Try to have fun without me."

Theo shrugged, and Draco went back to enthusing about the evening's execution of the hippogriff. He imitated Hagrid's rough accent, mourning he loss of the creature like it was his firstborn child. Daniel, feeling a little nauseous, made his way out of the quickly-filling common room, up out of the dungeons and onto the grounds. He sucked in a deep breath, and headed out to the forest.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel wandered past Hagrid's hut, taking a moment to watch the hippogriff as it lay despondently on the ground, submitting meekly to the rope around its neck. It didn't look all that vicious to him. But then, he'd never gotten close to the thing, and that was one hell of a beak.

"You're Buckbeak, huh," he said.

It twisted his head to look around at him, huge orange eyes fierce and proud.

"You do realise they're chopping your head off tonight, don't you?" Daniel said, leaning against the fence. "You're going to die."

He couldn't tell if the hippogriff understood a word he said. After looking its fill at him, it dropped its head back down to rest on its front paws, nestling its beak in between two enormous talons.

"You should try to escape," he said. "You've got nothing to lose. You're an enormous magical creature thing, and you're going to let yourself be beaten by a dumb old rope?"

The hippogriff let out a low, gurgling cry, and closed its eyes.

Daniel backed away slowly from the fence, and headed into the outskirts of the forest, glancing backwards every now and then to make sure nobody was watching him.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

After a couple of conversations through the mirror that had Black laughing at Daniel's hopeless sense of direction, Daniel found Black's dog form curled up at the trunk of a big old oak tree. He lifted his head, gave a sleepy-sounding woof, and dropped it back onto his paws.

"Lemme try this," Daniel said, drawing his wand and pointing it at Black, who just yawned hugely and regarded him with huge pale eyes. "_Animagus candeo_."

The huge black dog's head started to glow a cool green, pulsating gently but dim compared to the golden light from the sun.

"_Nox_," Daniel said quickly, with a quick glance around them. The light went out "I guess none of the animals I could find in the castle were wizards in disguise, then. Good thing, too."

Black got to his feet, barked softly again, and padded further into the forest. Daniel caught up and walked quickly behind him.

"Let's not go too far in, okay?" Daniel asked, after they'd walked about five minutes straight into the forest.

The dog looked around itself, and turned into Black. "I know where I'm going," he said. "You'll be fine."

"I'd just rather not get in too deep," Daniel said. "I've heard stuff about this place."

"Okay," Black said. "But I have lived here for months, you realise. I know the safe places."

He changed their direction slightly, setting off in a casual stroll. He was breathing deeply, but not like he was trying to calm himself down. He seemed to just be smelling the roses. Daniel matched his pace, and tried to follow his example.

"What did you want to talk about?" Black asked after a while, glancing across and down at Daniel.

He was really tall. Daniel had never really noticed that before. He was usually looking down at the mirror, with Black sitting down and Daniel lying down. Standing, Black was easily a foot taller than Daniel, and probably more. Skinny as hell, but _tall_.

"I faced a Boggart today," Daniel said, feeling small in more ways than one. "It was a friend of mine, saying stuff about how I want to be a Death Eater. That I'll fall in love with the power I could have."

Black shook his head. "You won't," he said.

"Ha," Daniel said. "Right. Good. Thanks. That's cleared _that _up."

"Truly," Black said. "You won't."

"Why not, then?" Daniel said, his voice harsh in his ears.

Black started to count on his fingers. "You were raised a Muggle, and raised well," he said. "You didn't tell anyone I was here, despite the glory you'd get for doing so. You didn't even hint at blackmail. Even if I'd refused to teach you Animagus, you wouldn't have turned me in. Your greatest fear is giving in to power, so it's something you'll be very aware of for your whole life. You're generous, you're funny, you're likeable. And all this after three full years in Slytherin, which is full to the brim of some very, very nasty kids."

"Huh," Daniel said. "That's a pretty strong character reference for someone who's only ever talked to me in a mirror."

"I'm guessing you wanted to talk to me about this because of my experience with both walks of life," Black said. "Because I know what I'm talking about. Right?"

"Yeah," Daniel said, eyes fixed on his feet as he walked.

"So accept I know what I'm talking about," Black said. "You're a good kid, and you'll stay that way."

Daniel let out an involuntary breath of relief. He didn't know if Black had done it on purpose, but that was _exactly _what he'd wanted to hear. "Thanks," he said. "That helps."

"I never took Runes," Black said, then, conversationally. "I was more of an outdoors type."

"I don't want to talk about _runes_," Daniel said. "I was actually wondering if you were going to be staying here all summer."

"Possibly," Black said. "Better to stay the whole time than leave and then find I can't get back in. And speaking of security, I need to switch back to Padfoot soon. I can't risk being myself for too long, not in daytime and out in the open."

"Not daytime for much longer," Daniel said.

"Should you be getting back?" Black asked, eyes suddenly plaintive.

"Nah," Daniel said. "Go Padfoot."

They walked around for a while, Daniel shrugging on his jacket as the sunlight faded out around them. He probably should be getting back into the castle before it was closed down with the sunset, but he was _enjoying _his walk, and it wasn't like he was in any great danger. If Black was planning to kill him, he'd have done it many months ago.

He glanced down at Black, who was tall even in dog form, the top of his head just about level with Daniel's breastbone. The big black dog was trotting back and forward between trees as they walked, just like a real dog would. It was ridiculous, how close Daniel was to forgetting that he was a man at all.

Just to see what would happen, Daniel whistled two notes, and when Black looked around, he gestured sharply down at his feet. "Heel, boy," he drawled.

Black let out a low woof and lolled his tongue out the side of his mouth. He ambled a little further away, sniffing around trees and wagging his tail slowly.

It would be way too much to ask, to live off the land with Black over summer. But there was something about the time they were spending, boy and dog, on a pointless stroll through a supposedly deadly dangerous forest, that sat right with Daniel.

"It's a shame dogs aren't allowed at Hogwarts," he said. "I like dogs."

Black trotted over to him, pale eyes friendly. He walked neatly at Daniel's side, nudging into him until he lifted a hand to rest it on the back of the dog's neck, the warm fur making him realise how cold his hands must be.

"I should probably go back though," he said. "I lose my excuse for being out after dark if it gets cold enough I'd have woken up."

Black turned a sharp angle, behind and to their left, and kept walking at the same casual pace. Daniel, with a fistful of coarse black fur, was tugged in the same direction.

"There's really not much dangerous stuff in here," he commented. "I don't see why it's so forbidden."

Black just walked into him slightly, then straightened up.

"No, wait," Daniel said, tugging back on the scruff of his neck. "I want to ask you something."

Black snuffled slightly, then took a couple of steps back and melted upwards into his decidedly less attractive form.

"What kind of stuff do you need to know, to live off the land like you do?" Daniel asked, with a casual air that fooled no-one. "What do you _eat_?"

"I'm a dog," Black said. "I hunt animals."

Well, a fat lot of help _that _was. Unless Daniel somehow managed to fast-forward learning Animagus to a point where he could transform safely by the end of the term, he was still stuck.

"Is that really what you wanted to ask?" Black asked with a bemused smile. "After all this time? My _menu_?"

Daniel didn't want to talk about it any more. "I just wondered," he said curtly. "No need to make fun."

Black frowned. If Daniel hadn't seen that same look dozens of times through the mirror, he might have quaked at the sight of it. As it was, he just returned it.

Black sighed. "Touchy, today," he commented. "Don't let the Boggart get to you. You beat it, I trust?"

"Yeah, I beat it," Daniel said darkly. "Of course I beat it."

"How?" Black asked, starting to walk again. "No, don't answer that, it's not my business. Just remember how you did it, whenever you feel that fear, and you'll feel stronger."

Well, duh. The only problem with _that _was that he hadn't beaten it in the normal way. He couldn't just shut off half his brain whenever he got a bit nervous about his future. "Yeah," he said, jogging a bit to catch up. "I guess."

Black transformed back into the dog without so much as breaking stride, and Daniel put his hand back onto its neck, feeling oddly disconnected from any other reality he might have known.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Snape returned to his office at around seven o'clock, having finally finished thoroughly clearing up the dregs of the forgetfulness potions created by the first years, including Robins' highly corrosive effort, and Delaney's, which she had somehow brewed at ten times regular strength.

He immediately checked on the simmering Wolfsbane, and decided to postpone beginning his marking until Lupin came by to collect it. Only three of the five year levels with internal exams had written components for Potions, so his job was an easy one compared to some. After four days of ensuring highly stressed students did not all explode their cauldrons in an effort to brew a simple potion, he decided he deserved a short break.

In a week, the students, their assorted problems and their unrestrained magic would be out of the castle, and the staff could finally do a thorough search under ideal conditions. That is, if Dumbledore thought it necessary. If he didn't, Snape would just have to remain himself and do what needed to be done.

He decided to lift his spirits, and shuffled through the sixth-year exams to find Chalmers', and Ventas'. Sometimes he needed a reminder that not _all _Hogwarts students were simpletons. Some of them, despite everything the school had done to them, developed real potential.

He read over their exams, finding himself nodding in approval at the succinct competence behind Chalmers' answers, all of which were correct. Ventas had done nearly as well, though his tendency to elaborate beyond what was necessary would have to be curbed before his N.E.W.T.s.

After about an hour of cherry-picking the best of the exams, Snape started to get irritated with Lupin. They had arranged three full moons ago that the werewolf should come to Snape for his potion, to ensure the dose he received was always at its most potent. In each of those months Lupin had tested Snape's patience by arriving at unpredictable times, sometimes perilously close to _too late_.

Dumbledore passed such behaviour off as being borne of Lupin's heavy schedule, and erratic health. Snape knew what it was, but was powerless to complain.

He stared at the gently smoking potion for a few minutes, and decided to give Lupin another hour. If the spiteful idiot left it later than nine, then Snape would be perfectly justified in demanding his dismissal. He was a _werewolf_, for heaven's sake, and neglecting his potion was criminal negligence.

Nine o'clock came and went. Snape carefully set down his partially-complete letter to the school governors regarding the employment of dark creatures and took the Wolfsbane off the heat. If Lupin wasn't going to take his medicine like a good dog, Snape would force it down him, werewolf or not.

He was _not _going to face that creature again.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Black walked Daniel back to the outskirts of the forest, which was darkening rapidly as night fell and clouds drifted over the moon. Daniel had had his wand out and lit, but once he could see the light from Hagrid's shack he put it out.

"Thanks for the walk," he said, rubbing the dog's neck roughly.

Black caught Daniel's hand with his tongue, and Daniel was drawing back in disgust when a shriek from Hagrid's shack stopped them both dead. Daniel moved away a little, but Black slipped forwards, a silent, hulking mass.

There was the faint sound of someone talking inside the hut, but Daniel couldn't pick out what was being said, or who was saying it. He found himself moving forwards alongside Black.

Black transformed in an instant, grabbed Daniel's wand out of his hand and pointed it at the building. When Daniel reached out to grab his wand back Black blocked him with his other hand, then flicked the wand a little, and Daniel could hear the voices clear as day.

"Scabbers!" that was Weasley, sounding as thoroughly shocked as Daniel felt. "Scabbers, what are you doing here?"

Black growled, and started forward. Daniel grabbed desperately at his arm, and hissed, "Wait!"

Black spun around to face him, face distorted with fury.

"Padfoot," Daniel said quickly, mouth working at twice the speed of his brain. "Listen, wait, you can't go running in there. Listen to me, for just a second."

"It's okay, Scabbers!" Weasley said inside the hut, voice drifting uncannily clearly. "No cats! There's nothing here to hurt you!"

"You said he was _dead_," Black snarled, hand tightening around the wand.

"_They_ thought he was dead as well!" Daniel said, pulling a little bit harder on Black's arm. "Everyone thought so, he's bloody —"

Then Hagrid spoke, and his words silenced Daniel. "They're coming…" he said, and Black jolted around like a wild creature.

"He's faked his death before," Daniel said, desperate for Black to _listen_. "He's damn _good_ at it. _Please_ don't go in there. They've still got to get up to the castle, we can grab him then, without you running in there and getting crunched by Hagrid."

"You've got to go," Hagrid said weakly. "They mustn't find you here. Go _on_, now. I'll let you out the back way."

Daniel tugged again at Black's arm, and Black let himself be pulled back into the forest. The movement jolted his wand hand, and whatever spell had been helping them hear was broken.

The door of the shack opened, and Hagrid, Potter, Weasley and Granger came piling out. The hippogriff pawed at the ground, looking around itself anxiously.

Hagrid said something to it, holding up a soothing hand, and then waved the Gryffindors away. But they didn't move, apparently fierce in protest.

"Go!" Hagrid said, the sound barely carrying to Daniel's ears. The rest just came across as murmurs. Daniel glanced at Black to see if he was going to cast the spell again, but he was staring fixedly over, and Daniel doubted if he realised Daniel was even there.

To Daniel's surprise, Granger unfurled a silvery-looking cloak, and cast it over the three of them, at which point they promptly vanished from view. Black jumped, and his eyes went even wider.

"Do the spell," Daniel urged him. "Invisibility cloaks don't mask sound, do they?"

"That's James' cloak," Black said hoarsely.

"Can you do Disillusionment?" Daniel said. "Come _on,_ _think_! Or give me my wand!"

Black blinked, and then tapped Daniel on the top of his head. It felt so much like being egged from above that he glanced up on reflex. Then he looked down and saw his body slowly fade from view. Black did the same to himself.

Then the back door of Hagrid's opened again, and a vaguely familiar man with a black moustache and a huge axe in his hands walked solidly down the steps, followed by Hagrid, a stooped, white-haired old man, the _Minister of Magic_ and, even more surprisingly, Dumbledore.

"Shit," he whispered. "Come on, we can't stay anywhere near Dumbledore. We should go up to the castle."

A hand fell on his shoulder, and felt its way down to his hand. Then he was holding his wand again, and was glad that Black couldn't be able to see his shocked expression.

He was tugged forward, and Black set the pace quickly up to the castle. "Go back in," he whispered, his hair tickling Daniel's neck. "I said you weren't going to take my fall for me, and I meant it. This is my chance, but I won't let it ruin you. You go up to the castle, and pretend you never knew me."

"No," Daniel said, intentionally loud enough to startle Black.

"Daniel," Black growled.

"_Sirius_," Daniel retorted. "I have your mirror on me right now. I'm conveniently invisible. _Nobody_ expects me to be out here. I am not just walking back into school and leaving you to these bastards again, not when I'm in such a perfect position to help."

He shoved his wand back towards Black.

"No," Black said. "_No._"

"I don't know that much magic," Daniel said. "You use it, just summon him or something."

Black just picked up his pace. "I won't be able to get him out from under the cloak," he said gruffly. "Keep your wand. I should never have used it."

There was a cry of pain, sounding like it had come from Weasley, about a hundred feet away from them.

"He bit me!" Daniel heard him protest.

Daniel looked across the ground, looking for flattened grass or something that would tell him where they were.

"The cat," Black breathed. "He's trying to get away from the cat."

Then Daniel saw it, an enormous ginger thing with glowing yellow eyes, stalking unswervingly forward.

Black squeezed Daniel's shoulder, and let go.

Worried voices came from just in front of them.

"Crookshanks! No, go away, Crookshanks! _Go away!_"

"Scabbers … _no_!"

There was a flash of movement on the grass, Crookshanks shot forward, Weasley appeared and ran in the same direction.

"_Ron_," Granger groaned, then she and Potter appeared again, sprinting after Weasley, their cloak flapping out in their slipstream.

"It's FiniteChamaeleo to drop the charm," Black whispered. "Please don't get caught up in this. I'm going."

"I'll find you a broom or something," Daniel said quickly and urgently. "Use the mirror when you need help. I'll be staying out here until you do, so don't think you can just ignore me and I'll be safe."

Daniel felt the air shift around Black as he transformed, and of course it broke the charm and he was racing toward the commotion on the ground ahead of them.

Potter grabbed out his wand when he saw the massive dog running at him but Black got to him first, slamming into him, over the top, and then coming back for Weasley. Potter tried to get in his way, but Black was fixated, and easily brushed him aside to drag the boy, limbs gangling — right under the Whomping Willow.


	34. Over, Under and Out of the Grounds

Lupin's office door was ajar, and the room was empty. Snape slammed the goblet of Wolfsbane down on the desk, ready to raise hell, when a piece of parchment with moving parts caught his eye.

"Lupin?" he called, bending over to take a closer look at the parchment.

He was astonished to find it was a map of Hogwarts, that gave the name and location of what looked like every single inhabitant. It placed Poppy in the hospital wing with Kenneth Towler and Geoffrey Hooper, Hagrid in his hut, Trelawney up in her tower. Dumbledore's office was empty, and it showed Snape himself standing right in the middle of Lupin's office.

What possible use could Lupin have for a map like this? The thought chilled his bones, and he set to scanning the parchment for the werewolf, picking up the goblet and ready to go after the beast.

It took him about a minute to find the dot marked Remus Lupin, and when he had found it, he almost wished he hadn't.

The murderous creature was loose in the grounds, moving so quickly Snape thought for a moment he had transformed already. Perhaps the whole thing was an effort to catch Snape in the trap he had barely escaped back in his school days. Lupin, wild and bloodthirsty, down in that damn tunnel, leaving the map out to tempt Snape to follow. This time, there was no Potter to save the two of them from Azkaban.

This time, as well, Snape wasn't sixteen and ignorant. He could handle a werewolf, if he had to, and he was wise to any tricks Black or Lupin could possibly conceive. Perhaps the two of them hadn't grown up beyond adolescence, but Snape had.

He would show them _precisely_ what happened to people who messed with Severus Snape, these days.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

After watching them all vanish into the tree Daniel stared at it for a while, fingers still clenched tightly around his wand.

After a moment, his brain slipped into gear. He'd promised Black a broom. He started to move off to the Quidditch shed, but stopped in his tracks at the sight of the execution parade making their way back up to the school. Hagrid was blubbering so loudly Daniel could hear him even from this distance. The guy with the axe was swaggering along, with Fudge hurrying after him. Dumbledore had his hand up on Hagrid's shoulder, but had his head bent to talk to the tiny old man, who was struggling to keep pace.

Once they vanished through the huge doors, Daniel started to move again, glancing up at the castle every minute or so, certain that Dumbledore would somehow find out what he was up to.

On his third glance up, he saw Lupin running down the stairs and across the grounds, wand lit, determination in his stride.

Daniel made his way slowly and carefully towards the Quidditch pitch, making sure he never came anywhere near crossing Lupin's path. He was astounded to see him making his way straight to the Whomping Willow, and his jaw dropped when something the man did brought the tree to a creaking, reluctant halt.

He was relieved, and then horrified, when Snape came out only minutes later. Snape was reliable, and powerful, and the one teacher at Hogwarts Daniel really felt was on his side. But for once, Daniel wanted a Gryffindor to defy the head of Slytherin and come out of it okay, and when did _that _ever happen.

Daniel tried not to think of what kind of a time Black was in for, instead making his way steadily across to the Quidditch pitch.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Snape prodded the knot on the Willow's trunk, utterly ignoring the memories that surfaced along with the action. He had been considered worthy to serve the Dark Lord before turning twenty, and worked with Albus Dumbledore for over a dozen years after that. If he couldn't defeat a werewolf, coming fully prepared to do so, then his name wasn't Severus Snape.

The tunnel made him feel slightly claustrophobic, and he clenched his teeth as he walked. His silent castings reassured him that the tunnel was wholly without magic.

The thought came to him after a while that it was possible Lupin had hurried down here to sequester himself in safety rather than coming to Snape for the potion and risking transforming in a public place.

He dismissed that. The map on his desk was a blatant effort to involve Snape, and that meant he had malicious intent. Judging by Lupin's behaviour earlier in the year, he would not make such a move on his own initiative. He had taunted Snape, never letting him forget who had Dumbledore's favour, but he had not moved in outright hostility.

Black was involved, Snape just knew it. He had finally worked Lupin around enough to convince him that Snape's murder was necessary.

Snape lengthened his stride, nothing but eager to finally face the pair of them, and give them what they deserved. If they wanted a showdown, Snape would very much enjoy giving them one.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

When Daniel arrived at the broom shed, he regarded it carefully for a moment. Draco had taken brooms out without any trouble that Monday morning, but it was after dark now, and there would surely be some kind of security.

This was the kind of situation where having been learning spells from Black all year really paid off.

He cast ProponoAdmonitio first, and then Porropolus. They didn't detect any kind of trap, or ward, or alarm system. That probably meant that the security was way out of Daniel's league, but he supposed it was worth a try.

Just so long as whatever anti-burglary spells were up weren't fatal. You never knew, at Hogwarts.

Alohomora didn't open it, and nor did Leidsete, but Ontsluitedid.

He stepped into the shed, closing the door most of the way behind him, and lit up his wand. The brooms were all stray twigs and dull wooden handles, and they all looked the same to him.

He looked around until he recognised one as the kind he'd flown with Draco. He took that one, then picked up another, that looked thinner and faster. It said "Cleansweep 6" on the handle.

It would have to do. He put out his wand, and left the shed, closing the door firmly behind him.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The first voice Snape heard once he was within magically-enhanced earshot of the shack forced him to re-think every one of the conclusions he had come to.

" … looked them up when I did my homework," Granger was saying, struggling to keep calm by the sound of her. "The Ministry keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals; there's a register showing what animal they become, and their markings and things."

Snape had never imagined that Lupin or Black would have involved Potter and his sidekicks in their assault on him, however friendly they had all become over the course of the year. They could have them out here in Hogsmeade to kill them, but if that were the case they wouldn't be letting Granger rattle on as she was.

Which left to him the conclusion that the thoughtless trio had again been nosing into things that were not their business, and which would wind up with the deaths of the lot of them if Snape had not been there to save them. Again.

Their topic of conversation was bizarre, to say the least. Snape waited a short distance back from the door, reassessing his priorities.

"And I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have only been seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list —"

Lupin started to laugh. It chilled Snape more than he could say. The werewolf was confident. The situation was under his control. "Right again, Hermione!" he said. "But the Ministry never knew that there used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts."

Then there came the voice that Snape really just needed to punch.

"If you're going to tell them the story," Black growled, "get a move on, Remus. I've waited twelve years, I'm not going to wait much longer."

Snape too could not wait any longer. He had to know more about what was going on inside. He could attempt a spell to try and spy into the room, but if it was detected by either wizard inside, they could act quickly, with Snape still stuck outside the room.

No, the only feasible option was to open the door, and be ready to disable Lupin, and take down Black at the first sign of any trouble, while shielding the confounded Gryffindors from any danger that may transpire.

"Alright," Lupin said, "but you'll need to help me, Sirius. I only know how it began … "

Snape pushed the door open, wand out and any number of incapacitating curses on his lips.

They all stared right through him.

Lupin was closest, face tight with worry but in control of himself. For now. Then there was Black by the wall, and Snape felt a savage jolt of satisfaction at the sight of him.

Black had been an attractive young man. He'd been effortlessly handsome, and charming, and gallant, and he'd known it. Snape could barely see that boy in the man standing tensely in this room. His hair fell in horrific clumps down to his elbows, his skin was a pasty yellow colour, he had blood all around his nose and a rapidly darkening eye. He held no wand, and when it came to physical condition Snape could probably take him in a fistfight, with one hand tied behind his back.

Oh, how the worm turns.

Lupin walked up to the door. His wand was in his belt. Snape didn't understand why he didn't draw it and cast detection spells, but he wouldn't complain. He would remain hidden, and _evaluate._

Potter was standing by the bed, wand in hand, knuckles bruised severely. Granger stood by him with a bloody lip, and past her Snape could see Weasley half-sitting up on the bed, face slightly green and shoulders shaking. Snape assumed, then, that they had _not _been invited.

"This place is haunted!" Weasley said, his voice weak.

"It's not," Lupin said, and Snape could see the wheels turning in his head. Then he turned away, stepping back to the centre of the room to face the Gryffindor students.

The situation would take some assessing. Snape kept his back to the wall but edged away from the doorway, settling in behind Lupin.

"The Shrieking Shack was never haunted," Lupin said. "The screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me."

This wasn't, apparently, news to Potter, though he didn't seem at ease with the thought.

"That's where all this starts," Lupin said. "With my becoming a werewolf. None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitten … and if I hadn't been so foolhardy."

Granger hushed Weasley, who had started to speak.

Lupin shot her a haunted look, profile grim. "I was a very small boy when I received the bite," he said. "My parents tried everything, but in those days there was no cure. The potion that Professor Snape has been making for me is a very recent discovery. If makes me safe, you see. As long as I take it in the week preceding the full moon, I keep my mind when I transform. I am able to curl up in my office, a harmless wolf, and wait for the moon to wane again."

The utter moron had been staying _in his office_ as a _werewolf_? It sounded like he'd wanted to be discovered after all. He shouldn't be too bothered by the way this evening was going to end, then. Snape felt himself grinning triumphantly at the thought.

"Before the Wolfsbane potion was discovered, however, I became a fully fledged monster once a month," Lupin continued, still unfathomably oblivious to Snape's presence. "It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. Other parents weren't likely to want their children exposed to me.

"But then Dumbledore became headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that, as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school." The werewolf sighed, and looked right at Potter. "I told you, months ago," he said, "that the Whomping Willow was planted the year I came to Hogwarts. The truth is that it was planted _because_ I had come to Hogwarts. This house, the tunnel that leads to it: they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place, to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous."

He had them. He had them all listening intently, though Black's gaze was fixed on Weasley.

"My transformations in those days were - were terrible. It is very painful to turn into a werewolf. I was separated from humans to bite, so I bit and scratched myself instead. The villagers heard the noise and the screaming and thought they were hearing particularly violent spirits. Dumbledore encouraged the rumour; even now, when the house has been silent for years, the villagers don't dare approach it.

"But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and, of course, your father, Harry: James Potter. Now, my three friends could hardly fail to notice that I disappeared once a month. I made up all sorts of stories. I told them my mother was ill, and that I had to go home to see her. I was terrified they would desert me the moment they found out what I was. But of course, they, like you, Hermione, worked out the truth, and they didn't desert me at all. Instead they did something for me that would make my transformations not only bearable, but the best times of my life. They became Animagi."

Snape didn't believe that for a second. Potter and Black didn't have such immensely difficult magic in them, and as for Pettigrew, Snape would sooner believe he was the Japanese Minister of Magic.

"My dad, too?" Potter asked, pathetically single-minded.

"Yes, indeed," Lupin said perfunctorily. "It took them the best part of three years to work out how to do it. Your father and Sirius here were the cleverest students in the school, and lucky they were, because the Animagus transformation can go horribly wrong: one reason the Ministry keeps a close watch on those attempting to do it. Peter needed all the help he could get from James and Sirius. Finally, in our fifth year, they managed it. They could each turn into a different animal at will."

"But how did that help you?" Granger asked. She was clever, but Snape didn't have faith she would be able to find too many holes in Lupin's story. Lupin was weak in countless ways, but he knew how to cover his tracks.

"They couldn't keep me company as humans," Lupin said, "so they kept me company as animals. A werewolf is only a danger to people. They sneaked out of the castle every month under James's invisibility cloak. They transformed: Peter, as the smallest, could slip beneath the Willow's attacking branches and touch the knot that freezes it. They would then slip down the tunnel and join me. Under their influence, I became less dangerous. My body was still wolfish, but my mind seemed to become less so while I was with them."

"Hurry up, Remus," Black interrupted, impatient as always, but he wasn't looking at Potter at all. It was Weasley he couldn't tear his eyes off, to Snape's continued bemusement.

"I'm getting there, Sirius, I'm getting there," Lupin said, treating his old friend just as he had treated Granger. This was his stage, and his story, and he had to get it exactly right to ensure that he kept Potter on side.

"Well, highly exciting possibilities were open to us now we could all transform. Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night."

Snape's vision dimmed for a moment, in pure, horrified shock. And then revulsion and rage filled him, boiling up inside of him so fiercely it was all he could do not to start blasting away right then and there.

"Sirius and James transformed into such large animals," Lupin was continuing, apparently not thinking he'd said anything so very appalling, "they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did. And that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."

"What sort of animal —" Potter asked, and Snape bared his teeth in a silent snarl.

"That was still really dangerous!" Granger exclaimed, apparently as uninterested in the minutiae of James Potter's life as Snape was himself. "Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

"A thought that still haunts me," Lupin said, almost convincingly. "And there were near misses, many of them. We laughed about them afterwards. We were young, thoughtless. Carried away with our own cleverness. I sometimes felt guilty about betraying Dumbledore's trust, of course … he had admitted me to Hogwarts when no other headmaster would have done so, and he had no idea I was breaking the rules he had set down for my own and others' safety. He never knew I had led three fellow students into becoming Animagi illegally."

Snape doubted that a great deal.

"But I always managed to forget my guilty feelings every time we sat down to plan our next month's adventure. And I haven't changed … "

Snape tried to calm down, but the sight of Lupin and Black _right there in front of him_ automatically dissipated any control he managed to amass. He settled for breathing very, very slowly, and half-closing his eyes.

"All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus," Lupin continued. "But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me … and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. He let me into Hogwarts as a boy, and he gave me a job, when I have been shunned all my adult life, unable to find paid work because of what I am. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using dark arts he learned from Voldemort, that being an Animagus had nothing to do with it. So, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along."

"Snape?" Black said, swinging around to look at Lupin. "What's Snape got to do with it?"

"He's here, Sirius," Lupin said. Snape's hand tightened around his wand, his breath faltering. "He's teaching here as well."

Black didn't look surprised. Snape didn't relax his grip.

"Professor Snape was at school with us," Lupin explained to his thralls. "He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons. You see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me —"

That brought out the monster in Black. "It served him right," the man said, a homicidal gleam in his eye. "Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to, hoping he could get us expelled … "

"Severus was very interested in where I went every month," Lupin said smoothly, a perfectly sober foil for Black's hostility. "We were in the same year, you know, and we — er — didn't like each other very much. He especially disliked James. Jealous, I think, of James's talent on the Quidditch pitch."

The way Lupin was going, Snape would enjoy his destruction more than he would Black's. _Jealous_, indeed.

"Anyway, Snape had seen me crossing the grounds with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me towards the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirus thought it would be — er — amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree-trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. Well, of course, Snape tried it. If he'd got as far as this house, he'd have met a fully grown werewolf, but your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his life.

"Snape glimpsed me though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden to tell anybody by Dumbledore, but from that time on he knew what I was … "

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," Potter said, as if it were the last piece of the puzzle. "Because he thought you were in on the joke?"

There would be no better moment. "That's right," Snape said, taking off the stupid cloak, and pointing his wand at Lupin's black heart.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel did not want to go into the forest alone at night, no matter how safe Black had declared parts of it. But he didn't really have many choices. He had to wait somewhere for Black's word, somewhere not too far away from the Whomping Willow but out of sight of the castle.

Hagrid's place was a possibility, since he'd seen how you could get out the back without being seen, but Hagrid's dog might be there, or any number of other creatures the man had decided to adopt.

He kind of knew Protego, and could escape a lot of animals on a broom. He tried to take comfort from those facts, but that didn't stop his heart rocketing about in his chest as he tried to find a good hiding place among the dark trees.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Granger screamed, ridiculous girl. Black was on his feet in an instant, but even he wasn't so brainless as to attack a man who had his dear friend Lupin at the end of his wand.

"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow," Snape said, tossing it aside. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you."

None of them spoke.

"You're wondering, perhaps, how I knew you were here?" Snape said, taking the stage before Lupin could wrest it back from him. "I've just been to your office, Lupin. You forgot to take your potion tonight, so I took a gobletful along. And very lucky I did … lucky for me, I mean. Lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight."

"Severus," Lupin said, but Snape couldn't afford to let him speak.

"I've told the headmaster again and again that you've been helping your old friend Black into the castle, Lupin, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout."

"Severus, you're making a mistake," Lupin said, a hint of genuine desperation edging into his voice. "You haven't heard everything. I can explain. Sirius is not here to kill Harry — "

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," Snape interrupted. "I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this." He decided to be generous, and give Lupin a chance to impress him. If Lupin could accept Snape's words, and admit his own guilt, perhaps Snape wouldn't take him straight to the Dementors. "He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin," he said meaningfully. "A _tame_ werewolf…"

"You fool," Lupin said, and that was the soul of the man. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?"

Snape cast Coactus, a touch of his suppressed rage finding an outlet. _He_ was the one with the wand here, and Lupin _would_ respect that.

Black roared like a wild beast, and made a move at Snape.

Snape gladly transferred his wand from Lupin's heart to between Black's eyes. "Give me a reason," he whispered, savouring the words. "Give me a reason to do it, and I swear I will."

Disappointingly, Black froze. Snape probably couldn't get away with killing Black in cold blood in front of the students. But then, he didn't have to cast Avada Kedavra to rid the world of Black and Lupin.

"Professor Snape," Granger said, barely managing to get the words out. "It … it wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w-would it?"

"Miss Granger," Snape said, returning her false courtesy in kind, "you are already facing suspension from this school. You, Potter and Weasley are out of bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, hold your tongue."

He thought he'd laid it out quite frankly and reasonably, but under stress it seemed Granger lost her lauded faculties for logic. "But if — if there was a mistake —"

"Keep quiet, you _stupid_ girl," Snape thundered. "Don't talk about what you _don't understand_." He held his hand steady, but despite himself a few sparks spat at Black.

Granger finally took the hint. Snape composed himself, and focused back on Black. "Vengeance is very sweet," he said, voice barely audible even to him. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you."

"The joke's on you again, Severus," Black said loudly, effortlessly aggravating Snape even further with his dismissal of the drama at hand. "As long as this boy —" he indicated Weasley, "— brings his rat up to the castle, I'll come quietly."

"Up to the castle?" Snape repeated, innocent confusion wreathed through his voice. "I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the Dementors once we got out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black. Pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay."

Black blanched. "You — you've got to hear me out," he rasped, voice tantalisingly close to begging. "The rat — look at the rat … "

"Come on, all of you," Snape said happily. He summoned Lupin's bindings up to his hand, suppressing the shudder that even such indirect contact to the creature gave him. "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the Dementors will have a kiss for him, too."

Potter got in his way, predictably.

"Get out of the way, Potter," Snape snapped. "You're in enough trouble already. If I hadn't been here to save your skin —"

"Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year," Potter said. The gall of the boy, to try reasoning with Snape, after all this time. "I've been alone with him loads of times, having defence lessons against the Dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?"

Snape didn't really have time for an extensive psychoanalysis of Lupin, Black and Potter right then. Not with Lupin in the state he was in, and Black the firebrand he was. Events could all too quickly spiral out of control. He needed to get back to the castle, to his simmering supply of Wolfsbane. "Don't ask me to fathom the way a _werewolf's_ mind works," he said, wondering if perhaps the boy had forgotten that Lupin would kill them all in an hour or so, unless Snape intervened. "Get out of the way, Potter."

"You're _pathetic_!" Potter bellowed. "Just because they made a fool of you at school you won't even _listen_ —"

"_Silence_!" Snape shouted over him, his patience just about exhausted. "I will _not_ be spoken to like that!"

Lily's eyes looked up at him full of rage out of Potter's face, and he lost it.

"Like father, like son, Potter!" he raved, barely keeping his mind enough to point his wand closer in to Black's face. "I have just_ saved your neck!_ You should be _thanking_ me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you might be mistaken in Black — now get out of the way, or I will _make_ you."

The boy didn't move.

"_Get out of the way, Potter!_"

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel sat in the fringe of the forest, brooms resting up against a tree, staring across the moonlit grounds at the Whomping Willow, swaying gently, though there was no breeze. The mirror was on the ground in front of him, reflecting the night sky.

He didn't know how long he waited. He cast warming charms every now and again, but they didn't stop him from feeling _cold_. After a while his feet and hands started to fade into view, though he could still see through them like they were made of water, or stained glass or something.

He sighed, and looked back up at the distant tree. If nothing happened for too much longer, he knew he'd start wondering if he should go in after them, before he became completely visible again. He had an ally in there from each side in Black and Snape, if they hadn't killed each other yet. And if they had, then he could just leave, and get back into the castle somehow, and never have been involved. Dumbledore could clean up the corpses.

As he watched, the tree froze. Daniel's heart rose to his mouth. He pocketed the mirror, slid his wand up his sleeve and grabbed the brooms.

A weird shape came up out of the roots. Daniel squinted at it, tilting his head back and forth to try and work out what it was.

He'd just realised it was a cluster of three people, all moving like they were holding hands and couldn't let go, when another figure came up like it was being winched up from a branch. Once above ground, it dangled unpleasantly in mid-air.

For a moment, Daniel was convinced they'd somehow hanged Snape, and took a panicked step back. Then three more people came up. Daniel knew he wasn't the best at maths there had ever been, but six people had gone in, and seven had come out.

Screw sound-finding. He needed a night vision spell, and a binoculars spell, because one of the people at the base of the Whomping Willow was Peter Pettigrew.

Daniel left the brooms back in the forest and walked tentatively out of the forest across the grass. It was so dark that so long as he was _mostly _invisible, he should be fine. As he walked, the crowd at the base of the Willow sorted themselves out and started to head up to the castle.

Daniel got close enough to be able to assure himself that there was no rope around Snape's neck. Black had a wand pointed at him, and was hovering him forward as the rest of them walked. Daniel was sure there were more dignified ways to transport people, but hey. Just because Black wasn't a mass murderer or a Death Eater, didn't mean he was a saint. Snape could get really, really annoying, after all. At least he wasn't dead. Probably.

Lupin and Weasley each had a hand chained to one of Pettigrew's. Funny, how Pettigrew looked exactly like Daniel had thought he would. He couldn't see him all that well, but he was clearly pudgy, balding and shitting himself. Daniel's wand hand started to itch, but he clenched his teeth and shoved it in his pocket. Black had things under control, it seemed. Cursing the fuck out of Pettigrew wouldn't exactly help matters.

Weasley had one leg in a splint, and Lupin had his wand on Pettigrew while Black took care of Snape. Once Daniel had seen all he needed to see he dropped back to the edge of the forest, watching them go with a funny little pang of regret. He was happy that things had worked out for Black, but it ended things as they had been.

Slivers of moonlight fell over the grounds, and Daniel watched glumly as Snape wobbled into the threesome up front, and they all came to a standstill. Daniel took a few steps forward, and watched, wand in hand.

Potter lunged at Pettigrew with an alarmed yelp, but Black grabbed him and shoved him away. In the moonlight, Daniel could see Lupin shaking and jerking, and maybe it was just Daniel —

It wasn't.

Daniel's legs turned to jelly, and he had to drop to his knees to avoid crumpling completely.

Lupin. Snape's Wolfsbane. Theo had been _right_. Daniel watched, barely thinking, as Black transformed and leapt at the wolf, dragging it away from Pettigrew and Weasley. As they tore at each other, one thought found its way into Daniel's dazed mind.

Pettigrew.

He forced himself to his feet, and then Granger screamed. Something exploded, twice, and Potter disarmed Pettigrew, too late. The man vanished, presumably replaced by the rat, but Daniel didn't have time to think about it any more than that, because the _werewolf_ was charging right _at _him.

Holy fucking shit.

Daniel stumbled back into the trees, bouncing off them like a pinball, trying to find where he'd rested the brooms. He didn't know if the Disillusionment charm covered smell, and he really really didn't want to wait to find out.

He found the right place, got on one of the brooms, picked up the other, and _flew_, just as the wolf entered the trees.

It could smell him. Either that, or it could somehow hear him flying through the air. It leaped up way higher than Daniel thought it would be able to, snapping wildly in his direction, and he jerked his broom upward so hard he almost fell off backwards. He abandoned the broom he was carrying, grabbing onto the smooth handle of the one he was flying, and holding on for dear life, going cold all over as he rose higher into the air.

He shot up over the trees, and the wolf howled in frustration. The howl faded as it ran off, though, and Daniel dropped back down into the treetops.

But the cold didn't leave him. He felt sick to his stomach, and his heart sank down into it, as he broke out in shivers.

There was an agonised yelp from the direction of the lake. Daniel braced himself and rose above the trees again, just as he realised where the cold was coming from.

Dementors. A shitload of Dementors had come to visit, and they were closing in on something by the lakeshore. Something letting out constant dog-like whimpers.

Daniel gritted his teeth and dropped to about ten feet off the ground, flying the damn broom as fast as he could manage without flying straight into branches. The forest cleared in front of him as he sped toward the lake. Once he was wholly out of the trees, he stopped despite himself. There were so _many_ Dementors,and Daniel wasn't even a good flier when he was the only one on the broom. Maybe Draco could pull it off, or Potter —

Potter. He could find Potter, and give him the broom, tell him to rescue —

The Dementors were moving in a different pattern, now. Almost like someone else was there.

"_Expecto patronum!_" someone bellowed. "_Expecto patronum!_"

The Dementors jerked back from Black, and Daniel saw Potter grab Granger and set her on the opposite side of Black. "_Help me!_" he screamed. "_Expecto patronum!_"

There was a silver mist hovering around him, which the Dementors seemed reluctant to go near.

Daniel didn't hear her speak, but Granger must have cast the same spell, because something silver poured out of her wand as well, and the Dementors backed off from her as well.

Potter kept shouting the spell, and Granger held steady behind him.

Daniel turned his broom around, and throwing caution to the wind, flew straight across the ground towards where he'd last seen Snape and Weasley.

Snape was stirring, and Daniel had a sudden, brilliant thought.

He pulled out his wand, pointed it at his own head, and said, "_Oro insolio_," and then he flicked his wand sharply at Weasley and added, "_Tiravox_,"

"By the lake!" he bellowed in Weasley's west country accent, trying to deepen his voice as much as he could. He hadn't thrown his voice perfectly, but at least it wasn't coming right from him. "Dementors by the lake! Harry and Hermione!"

Snape made it to his knees, and as soon as he looked to be properly conscious Daniel flew back into the forest. The charm was wearing off pretty quickly now. Daniel thought it was dark enough to be safe, but this was Snape, who knew every trick in the book.

He fought off the cold, heavy feeling in his stomach and flew back to where he could see the Dementors. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw that Potter and Granger were somehow still standing. Daniel thought their clouds or whatever looked fainter than before. Black was still lying crumpled between them.

Potter wasn't shouting any more. As Daniel watched, Granger stumbled backwards, falling onto Black, and the Dementors on her side closed in.


	35. Rescues

Snape came to himself, mouth full of cold damp grass and a fierce ache at the back of his head. His vague forays into his pockets and sleeves didn't uncover any wand.

"By the lake!" someone shouted from a short distance away. "Dementors by the lake! Harry and Hermione!"

Snape forced himself up to his knees, and spotted his wand in the grass not five feet away. Further down was Weasley. The boy had passed out, presumably from the effort he had put into his warning.

He picked up his wand, cast Vigoriaon himself, and made a quick check on Weasley, who seemed stable.

He could sense the Dementors in vast number but didn't have time to dwell on the dread they inspired. He had to go and save Potter's life. Again.

He ran to the lake, summoning up every moment of happiness he had had in his life, pushing away any and all unpleasant associations.

It was Lily, of course. Lily, a little girl untainted by the evil and sorrow that had plagued Severus's own life, holding an old stick in her hand, eyes focused somewhere far away as she flourished it wildly through the air. Leaning in toward Severus as they sat together on the ground, brilliant green eyes eager, asking questions after question, so happy to rely on Severus to guide her into her new life. The one they'd have together, away from nosy Muggle shrews, and parents who screamed and shouted and fought. He'd give Lily Hogwarts, and she would give him something to live for_._

He saw her again, lying on the ground in their copse, sun lighting up her hair so it shone around her, such a bright red it stung Severus's eyes. She asked him questions about his life, and his feelings, interested in everything there was to know about him. She called him by his name. Nothing else had mattered, back then, when he was with her. Nothing had been quite as bad as he'd remembered.

"_Expecto patronum_," he said, the words coming out softly, but with more conviction than he'd ever managed to cast a Crucio.

He followed the doe as it charged into the mass of Dementors, rushing through them, kicking out with its hind legs as it went. They scattered and Snape felt a sudden generous urge towards Potter, barely standing as his weak Patronus dissipated before him.

The boy crumpled and fell over Granger and Black, his job done. Snape knew that win-or-die-trying protectiveness only too well; he'd been its recipient, until he'd started to take it for granted, and forgotten what truly mattered.

The Dementors were gone, and his Patronus was returning to him. He dismissed it, unable to bear the way it made his heart ache. Perhaps he levitated Potter into the air a little more gently than he did Granger or Black. Maybe he dropped him a little harder onto the stretcher. He couldn't really tell either way.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel didn't like leaving Black in Snape's hands, but no matter how much he wanted his friend to be free, he wasn't going to oppose _Snape_, not when the man was probably mad enough to leave only bits and pieces of him behind.

He scoured the forest floor for the broomstick he'd dropped, nerves on edge, listening desperately for any noise the werewolf might make. Not that he'd hear it if it was stalking him. It had seemed nuts though, it would probably just berserko charge. He found the broom without too much trouble, picked it up as quickly as he could and got off the ground again straight away.

With the werewolf still on his mind, he found a fairly solid branch well out of reach of any wolves on the ground and painstakingly transferred himself from the broom to the branch. He left the two brooms resting across his lap, propped the mirror up against the trunk of the tree, and waited.

After about twenty minutes he activated the mirror, turning it immediately away from his face in case someone else had gotten their hands on it.

"Daniel?"

Daniel turned the mirror around to face him and his heart soared as Black's face appeared right up close to the mirror, looking strained.

"Daniel?" he whispered. "Go back inside, they've got me."

Daniel glanced at the brooms, and started to shake. "Where are you?" he whispered.

"Go _in_, you little Slytherin shit," Black retorted.

"Not on your life," Daniel said.

Black picked up the mirror, and it jerked around as he walked somewhere. "Seventh floor," he said. "Flitwick's office, I think. West Tower, anyway."

"I know Flitwick's," Daniel said. "Stay by the window so I can find you." He shoved the mirror into his pocket, and looked at the brooms

He sat tentatively on the Cleansweep and grabbed the Tinderblast, closed his eyes, and rose into the air.

He let himself fall back to the ground, and rearranged his stuff. He tried to cast a feather-light on the Tinderblast, but it must have been enchanted to resist them or something, because it stayed stubbornly heavy. He tucked it as firmly as he could under his left arm at the least awkward angle, took out his wand and gripped it firmly in his right hand, and tried again.

That time he was a little better balanced, and made it fifty feet in the air before his palms started to seriously sweat. He didn't want to fly upwards near the castle where he might be seen from the lower levels, so he had to get up about as high as the seventh floor and fly all the way from the forest.

It was over a hundred feet up. He clenched his jaw and rose slowly, the sweat on his body freezing him as he got higher up in the air.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"Shocking business," Fudge said, for about the tenth time during their short walk to the hospital wing. "Shocking. Miracle none of them died … never heard the like. By thunder, it was lucky you were there, Snape."

"Thank you, Minister," Snape said decorously.

"Order of Merlin, second class, I'd say," Fudge continued, oblivious to Snape's amusement and disdain. But then, Snape _was _used to concealing such things. "First class, if I can wangle it!"

"Thank you very much indeed, Minister."

"Nasty cut you've got there. Black's work, I suppose."

Snape hid his smile. "As a matter of fact," he said calmly, "it was Potter, Weasley and Granger, Minister."

"No!" Fudge exclaimed, suitably horrified.

"Black had bewitched them," Snape invented. No point in disabusing Fudge's high opinion of the Potter boy, not when to do so would lessen Snape's magnanimity. "I saw it immediately. A confundus charm, to judge from their behaviour. They seemed to think there was a possibility he was innocent. They weren't responsible for their actions."

Fudge was nodding his understanding, and Snape got the feeling he'd gone a little too far in the forgiveness stakes.

"On the other hand," he said, in that same reasonable tone, "their interference might have permitted Black to escape. They obviously thought they were going to catch Black single-handed. They've got away with a great deal before now; I'm afraid it's given them a rather high opinion of themselves. And, of course, Potter has always been allowed an extraordinary amount of licence by the headmaster…"

"Ah, well, Snape," Fudge hemmed and hawed. "Harry Potter, you know. We've all got a bit of a blind spot where he's concerned."

Snape maintained his avuncular attitude. "And yet," he said, "is it good for him to be given so much special treatment? Personally I try to treat him like any other student. And any other student would be suspended — at the very least — for leading his friends into such danger. Consider, Minister: against all school rules, after all the precautions put into place for his protection, out of bounds at night, consorting with a werewolf and a murderer. And I have reason to believe he has been visiting Hogsmeade illegally, too —"

"Well, well," Fudge said. "We shall see, Snape, we shall see. The boy has undoubtedly been foolish."

Ah well, it had been worth a try. The evening had garnered a net profit, in any case. Black was due to be destroyed in the most complete way possible, Lupin was exposed, and Potter owed Snape his life. Again. And this time, he didn't even know it. Wouldn't ever know it, from the strength of Snape's confundus charm.

"What amazes me most is the behaviour of the Dementors," Fudge said, rolling his hat nervously in his hands. "You've really no idea what made them retreat, Snape?"

"No, Minister," Snape said, keeping the defensiveness that came over him out of his voice. "By the time I had come round they were heading back to their positions at the entrances."

"Extraordinary," Fudge said, shaking his head. "And yet Black, and Harry, and the girl —"

"All unconscious by the time I reached them," Snape said smoothly. "I bound and gagged Black, naturally, conjured stretchers and brought them all straight back to the castle."

There was a short silence, in which Fudge realised he was playing with his hat, and slammed it abruptly back onto his head.

"Ah, you're awake!" Poppy said from inside the hospital wing.

"How's Ron?" Potter and Granger asked in revolting unison.

"He'll live," Poppy said. "As for you two, you'll be staying here until I'm satisfied you're — Potter, what do you think you're _doing_?"

Snape braced himself, and gave Fudge a look that suggested they should do their best to be tolerant. For the sake of the _children_.

"I need to see the headmaster," Potter demanded.

"Potter, it's alright," Poppy said, in a futile bid to calm the boy down. "They've got Black. He's locked away upstairs. The Dementors will be forming the kiss any moment now."

"_What!_" Potter shrieked. Snape had to admire the way Poppy had found the precise wrong words to say.

"Harry, Harry, what's this?" Fudge said, as Snape followed him into the wing. "You should be in bed. Has he had any chocolate?"

"Minister, listen!" Potter said, eyes painfully earnest. "Sirius Black's innocent! Peter Pettigrew faked his own death! We saw him tonight! You can't let the Dementors do that thing to Sirius, he's —"

Fudge was shaking his head, smiling indulgently. Snape stood back and let his work come to fruition.

"Harry, Harry," Fudge said, in exactly the wrong tone. Did none of these people understand Potter at all? "You're very confused. You've been through a dreadful ordeal, lie back, now, we've got everything under control…"

"You _haven't_!" Potter bellowed. "You've got the _wrong man_!"

Granger hurried to stand beside Potter. "Minister, listen, please," she entreated. "I saw him, too. It was Ron's rat, he's an Animagus. Pettigrew, I mean, and —"

There was always the chance people would listen to Granger. Snape thought he should probably make certain Fudge wouldn't, not this time. "You see, minister?" he said. "Confunded, both of them. Black's done a very good job on them."

"_We're not confunded_!" Potter yelled, in what was probably the weakest argument he'd made in, well, the last week or so.

"Minister! Professor!" Poppy protested. "I must insist that you leave. Potter is my patient, and he should not be distressed!"

"I'm not distressed," Potter said, calming himself down a little. "I'm trying to tell them what happened! If they'd just listen —"

Poppy, in a move beautiful in its simplicity, filled the boy's mouth with chocolate. He was so distracted trying not to choke on it that it was a simple task to press him back down onto the bed.

"Now, _please_, Minister," she said, "these children need care. Please leave —"

Dumbledore came in then, and his entrance incited Potter to get up again. Snape grew unaccountably nervous.

"Professor Dumbledore," Potter said. "Sirius Black —"

"For heaven's sake!" Poppy squawked. "Is this a hospital wing, or not? Headmaster, I must insist —"

"My apologies, Poppy, but I need a word with Mr. Potter and Miss Granger," Dumbledore said serenely. "I have just been talking to Sirius Black —"

"I suppose he's told you the same fairy tale he's planted in Potter's mind?" Snape interrupted. "Something about a rat, and Pettigrew being alive —"

"That, indeed, is Black's story," Dumbledore said, and Snape caught the warning in his gaze.

He wasn't inclined to mind it. "And does my evidence count for nothing? Peter Pettigrew was not in the Shrieking Shack, nor did I see any sign of him in the grounds."

"That was because you were knocked out, Professor!" Granger said helpfully. "You didn't arrive in time to hear —"

That girl would be the death of him. "Miss Granger, _hold your tongue_."

"Now, Snape," Fudge said, dismayed. "The young lady is disturbed in her mind, we must make allowances —"

"I would like to speak to Harry and Hermione alone," Dumbledore commanded. "Cornelius, Severus, Poppy. Please leave us."

"Headmaster!" Poppy protested. "They need treatment. They need rest!"

"This cannot wait," Dumbledore announced. "I must insist."

Poppy stomped off into her office. Fudge glanced at his watch, no doubt trying to think of a face-saving way to avoid having being ordered out of a room by Dumbledore. "The Dementors should have arrived by now," he said. "I'll go and meet them. Dumbledore, I'll see you upstairs."

He walked to the door, and held it open for Snape, who was feeling the situation spiral out of his control.

"You surely don't believe a word of Black's story?" he asked.

"I wish to speak to Harry and Hermione alone," Dumbledore said mildly.

Snape couldn't help taking a step closer. If Dumbledore stood against him in this, he didn't know what he'd do.

"Sirius Black showed he was capable of murder at the age of sixteen," he said softly. "You haven't forgotten that, headmaster? You haven't forgotten that he once tried to kill _me_?"

"My memory is as good as it ever was, Severus," Dumbledore told him.

There was nothing more for him to do. He turned his back abruptly on the old man and marched out of the room.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel found Black staring out of a window and inched towards it, trembling with relief. He tried to balance himself on the broom with only one hand, wobbling a little before he found his centre of gravity. He lifted his right hand up, holding his wand, and wanted so desperately to find his feet on the ground again that he skipped straight to the Alohomora_._

There was a click, and Black opened the window from inside. Daniel dropped to hover slightly lower, so he could hold the Tinderblast out for Black to climb out of the window and onto.

Black only just made it out of the window, but dropped with enviable grace onto the broom.

"Come on," he said, placing a hand on Daniel's back to steady him.

"I fucking hate flying," Daniel said weakly.

Black guided him up to the top of the West Tower, and as soon as he could, Daniel all but fell off his broom onto the cool stone.

"Are you alright?" Black asked, pulling him up by the arm.

Daniel steadied himself, but didn't mind it when Black kept holding on to his arm. "I really hate flying," he said. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Black said. "I should go, and quickly. They'll be coming up to the office any moment."

"Wait," Daniel said. "Take this." He pulled out the mirror, and held it out to Black.

Black took his hand off Daniel's arm and pushed the mirror away from him. "Keep it," he said. "I still need to teach you the rest."

Daniel frowned. "I don't want them to find it, ever. I bet Dumbledore could trace it back to your one, and you'd get caught. The whole point of this is that you're free."

"I trust you to keep it safe," Black said.

"You might need it again," Daniel said. "If you leave it here, you won't be able to get it back for ages, if you're going to stay underground. And just because you trust me doesn't mean I'm a match for someone like Dumbledore or Snape trying to find out the truth."

Black was shifting from foot to foot, glancing at the door to the stairs. "You're doing too much for me," he protested.

"Deal with it," Daniel told him. "Or you could just go downstairs and go back to Azkaban. Whatever." He shoved the mirror out again.

Black took it.

"Take both brooms," Daniel said. "I'll walk back down."

Black clenched his jaw.

"Thank you," he said. "You'll hear from me again. I promise."

He swung a casual leg over the Cleansweep, holding Daniel's mirror in one hand and the Tinderblast in another.

"Good luck," Daniel said. "Do you need any spells, or anything?"

Black considered him for a moment. "Did you lock the Quidditch shed after you?"

Daniel shook his head. "I guess not," he said.

"Good," Black said. "I owe you my life."

"Get out of here," Daniel said, before he could say anything else to delay Black's escape.

"I won't forget this," Black said, and then he'd pushed off, flown over the wall and dived out of sight.

Daniel turned and sat with his back against the outer wall, twirling his wand in the fingers of his right hand. Now he'd done everything he could for Black, he had to think of what he could possibly use as an alibi.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

"I only hope Dumbledore's not going to make difficulties," Snape said, slowing his pace to allow for Fudge's slow steps. What he really wanted was to run up to where they'd locked up Black, and stand guard over him for as long as it took for the Dementors to arrive and perform the kiss. "The kiss will be performed immediately?"

"As soon as Macnair returns with the Dementors," Fudge said. "This whole Black affair has been highly embarrassing. I can't tell you how much I'm looking forward to informing the Daily Prophet that we've got him at last — I daresay they'll want to interview you, Snape — and once young Harry's back in his right mind, I expect he'll want to tell the Prophet exactly how you saved him."

Snape turned his smirk into a smile. Or he tried, at least. He held no illusions that Potter would do any such thing, but he certainly would enjoy telling the Prophet how profoundly Black had injured the Boy Who Lived, that he would never quite remember the truth of this fateful evening. Indeed, the confundus charm he had been hit with had tainted the whole evening with an uncertain fog for the boy. He had no recollection of seeing whoever had cast the mysterious Patronus, but would no doubt thank whoever it had been from the bottom of his heart.

"Indeed," he said.

"Such a pity, that he got caught up in all this business," Fudge mused. "If only the boy could grow up as untroubled as his peers! I don't feel that Dumbledore truly understands his need for a strong respect for authority."

"Mm," Snape said.

"Dumbledore's always been a little like that," Fudge said, painfully unsubtle. "Takes a little too much onto his own shoulders, at times. No fault of the man himself, of course, but unnecessary, when there are so many us prepared to take such responsibilities as we are able. And, indeed, elected to do so!"

"I quite agree," Snape said.

Macnair was coming down the corridor, his face red with rage.

"Oh dear," Fudge said. Snape's heart sank.

"Black's gone," Macnair announced. He was still carrying his axe. Snape stared at it, allowing himself a small fantasy.

"Macnair!" Fudge exclaimed in horror. "What are you saying? How can he be gone?"

Macnair glowered. "Went up with the Dementors," he elaborated. "Black wasn't there."

"Oh dear," Dumbledore said out of nowhere. Fudge jumped at the noise. Snape held himself perfectly still.

"Return to your post immediately!" Fudge said, his voice cracking.

Macnair stared at him insolently for a moment, then turned and walked away.

"Well," Dumbledore said. "This is a very concerning development."

Snape was ready to snap the old man's skinny little neck. He turned on his heel and marched back to the hospital wing, Dumbledore keeping easy pace beside him.

"How can you have let this happen?" Snape asked with the breath he could spare.

"He must have disapparated, Severus," Dumbledore said. "We should have left somebody in the room with him. When this gets out —"

Did Dumbledore — what — the nerve — on purpose — _disapparate —_

"He didn't disapparate!"Snape roared. "You can't apparate _or _disapparate inside this castle!" His last gasp of sanity prevented him from accusing Dumbledore, who had _obviously_ engineered the escape, and he latched onto the only other person he held such hatred for, who could remotely take the blame. "This," he bellowed, "has something to do with _Potter_!"

"Severus, be reasonable," Dumbledore said. "Harry has been locked up."

_Black_ had been "locked up", and look how that had ended up. As Dumbledore _well knew._ Snape rode on the waves of his anger, and the door to the hospital wing burst open ahead of him.

Potter sat up, looking fearful. Which just made it even more impossible for Snape not to completely lose his mind. "Out with it, Potter!' he bellowed, taking a savage satisfaction in the fear on the nasty little face. "What did you _do_?"

"Professor Snape!" Pomfrey exclaimed, eyes wide. "Control yourself!"

What was the point? Dumbledore had events _well in hand_. Nothing Snape could do or say would make the tiniest difference to how events unfolded.

"See here, Snape," Fudge said, "be reasonable. This door's been locked, we just saw —"

Snape did not have time for spineless politicians, with _stupid_ hats.

"They helped him escape, I _know it_!" He flung a wild hand to point at Potter and Granger, who just looked shellshocked.

"Calm down, man!" Fudge snapped pompously. "You're talking nonsense!"

"You don't know Potter!" Snape's throat was shredding, but he couldn't stop. "He did it, I know he did it."

"That will do, Severus," Dumbledore said, and Snape just couldn't shout over him, as he dearly wished to do. "Unless you are suggesting that Harry and Hermione are able to be in two places at once, I'm afraid I don't see any point in troubling them further."

Snape looked at Fudge, who was looking back at him in disappointed bewilderment and fear.

He looked at Dumbledore.

Who was _twinkling_ at him.

Snape took two deep breaths.

He had to destroy something. He _had _to.

If he so much as looked at Potter, it would be that boy left bleeding and broken. Snape gathered every scrap of control he had left, and left the hospital wing, unable to so much as see where he was going.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Daniel was just deciding he could spent the night up at the top of the tower and claim to have fallen asleep, when the door opened. He quickly closed his eyes and let his mouth fall open, loosening his grip on his wand slightly.

The door closed. "Mr. Livingstone," Dumbledore said.

Daniel kept his eyes closed. He was pretty sure there needed to be eye contact for Legilimency. That was how it had always come across to him, even if Snape hadn't directly said so.

"Sirius is safely out of the castle grounds," Dumbledore said. From the sound of his voice, he'd sat down a little way away from Daniel. "He has returned one of the brooms used in his escape safely to the Quidditch shed, so only one will be reported missing."

Daniel did nothing.

"It was unfortunate you were discovered entering the castle twenty minutes after curfew," Dumbledore said breezily. "And just as Mr. Filch was passing on his rounds, as well. I think a six-hour detention, though extreme, is not an unfair punishment for your flouting of the rules."

"Or you could expel me," Daniel said, eyes still firmly shut. "Save Snape from killing me slowly."

Dumbledore's voice was mild. "I have always seen Severus as the kind of man to follow the objects of his ambition, however distant they may become."

Daniel shivered.

"I think it would be best for all involved if he had no reason to question you on the matter," Dumbledore said.

"Well, yeah," Daniel said. "I figured _that_ out for myself."

"You are not injured, I trust?"

Daniel swallowed. The concerned voice was way more discomfiting than the cool, informative one. He couldn't trust it, but it was _so _close to being convincing_._

"I'm fine," he said.

"You're cold, no doubt."

"I'm fine."

"Ah," Dumbledore said, accepting Daniel's hostility perfectly calmly. "Well. You'd best get back down to your dormitory, then."

Daniel opened his eyes a little, and saw Dumbledore getting slowly to his feet. Dumbledore saw him looking, and smiled a little. Daniel didn't feel anything intruding into his mind, and relaxed an equally small amount.

He stood up, stomping around a bit to bring his feet back to life. "Potter and Granger are alright, are they?" he asked casually. "Oh, and Weasley I guess."

"They will be spending the night in the hospital wing," Dumbledore said. "I expect they will recover with typically youthful swiftness."

Dumbledore opened the door and motioned for Daniel to go through before him. Daniel didn't particularly feel like having his back to the man, but that was stupid. Dumbledore could do anything he wanted whether Daniel was facing him or not.

He couldn't help but shoot a grim look up at the man as he went past.

It was a confusing fog of thoughts and memories, nothing like it had ever been with Snape. With Snape he'd felt anchored, and he'd understood, at least vaguely, what was meant to be going on. He'd felt contact with the man himself the whole time, and had a sense of how he could communicate with him if he needed to.

Dumbledore melted his mind down into a suffocating blur, and it was all Daniel could do remember who he was.

Then hands were lowering him gently to the floor, and he spent a few minutes putting his thoughts back in order before he started to look through his open eyes.

Dumbledore was crouching in front of him, calculating something. "Well," he said, once Daniel's eyes finally focused on him. "It seems you have indeed fully recovered from the events of last year."

Daniel stared at him dumbly, trying to remember how to speak.

"Severus was concerned for you," Dumbledore said, and pulled Daniel to his feet, holding out a hand to stop the boy from falling flat on his face.

Daniel couldn't think all that clearly as Dumbledore accompanied him down to the Slytherin rooms, but one thought was hammering at him fiercely, not letting him forget for an instant that Dumbledore was _not to be trusted_.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Snape was in the final stages of brewing the Draught of Peace when somebody knocked on his door. He didn't answer. He just continued stirring, nearly hypnotised by the waves forming and subsiding as his oak stirring rod disturbed the calm grey potion.

Once the stirring was complete, he turned down the flames and watched the potion bubbling gently until it was the precise shade of grey it required.

He added the syrup of hellebore and as the silver mist rose above the cauldron he found his centre again. It had been far too long since he had been calm, he realised, and now that he didn't feel he could get any lower, it was a good time to remember how.

There was another knock. Snape lifted the cauldron off the heat, and placed it on the opposite bench. Once it had cooled, he would split it into doses and take it up to Poppy.

He took off his gloves, picked up his cloak from where he had left it on a stool near at the front of the room, and opened the door.

"Severus," Dumbledore said. If Snape listened closely enough, he would probably be able to detect a note of apology.

He didn't feel like listening.

Dumbledore's eyes flickered around the room, and settled on the cloak in Snape's hands. "Shall we walk?" he suggested.

"A marvellous idea," Snape said curtly. He stepped out of his laboratory, closed the door firmly, and put on his cloak. "Do you have any destination in mind?"

Dumbledore started to stroll down the corridor, his hands behind his back. Snape walked by his side, trying not to let his feet drag as he walked.

"I suggest that in the morning you speak with Mr. Livingstone," Dumbledore said after a few minutes of silent perambulation.

Snape didn't even look at him. He didn't want to see Dumbledore's face. He didn't want to know whether it contained sincerity, or guile, or, god forbid, sympathy.

"Oh?" he said, giving a grim look to a portrait mouse holding a disproportionately large ear horn. The little rodent dropped the device and scampered away. "Does the boy not have exams?"

"He is finished for the year," Dumbledore said, "along with the rest of his peers."

"What has he done?" Snape asked. He didn't know why Dumbledore had decided that Livingstone was the most important topic of conversation, but he supposed it was easier than discussing the events of the evening.

There was little to say on such a subject, anyway. It wasn't as though Snape had learned anything new about Dumbledore's regard for him. It was probably healthiest to have it all out in the open.

But Dumbledore had been his _chance._

"It is not a matter of what he has done," Dumbledore said. "Though you could no doubt uncover any number of breaches of school rules if you chose to thoroughly investigate his behaviour."

"The boy does not need conversations with me to remain stable," Snape reminded Dumbledore. "He fares better when left alone, as I have told you before." And the boy was not the only one. He didn't say it aloud, but knew Dumbledore would get the message.

"That may be true," Dumbledore mused. "However, I dare say you would not wish him to spent his entire summer, as you say, alone."

"Of course not," Snape said. "He is not yet fourteen. He will be returning to his guardians."

"No," Dumbledore said. "Without intervention, he will not."

Snape finally lifted his tired eyes to Dumbledore's. The man regarded him seriously, then opened the door to the nearest classroom and motioned Snape into it. Snape walked to a window and stared out over the grounds, bathed in cool moonlight. As far as he knew, Lupin was still out there, unrestrained and bloodthirsty.

"The Muggle authorities have seen fit to transfer Mr. Livingstone to another family," Dumbledore said, closing the door softly behind him. "The young man does not intend to submit himself to their guidance. He will board the Hogwarts Express back to London. Beyond that he has no strategy for survival."

Snape frowned and turned back into the room. "Has he told you this?" he asked.

"It is true," Dumbledore said simply. "He spent two weeks in Diagon Alley before arriving at Hogwarts, having left his new foster parents without warning."

"I spoke to his guardians during the term," Snape told him. "They said nothing of any of this."

Dumbledore inclined his head. "Nor will they," he said. "They prefer happiness for their son, not security."

"I will speak to him," Snape said. "Thank you for bringing this issue to my attention."

Dumbledore nodded again. "I am sorry to keep you up so late," he said. "Good night."

Snape stared at him, motionless, until he left the room. Then he sank down into one of the student seats, and closed his eyes.


	36. One Last Week

Daniel woke slowly in a sweltering mass of sheets and blankets. He kicked them off, opened his curtain slightly to let some air in, and tried to remember what he'd been dreaming.

"How was your detention?" Theo asked, his tone teasing.

"Hrmph?" Daniel said. He'd been flying, he thought. He'd known it was a dream, because he was hundreds of feet above the ground, but hadn't been worried, or afraid. He rubbed at his eyes.

"Your detention," Theo repeated. "Was it fun?"

"Not exactly," Daniel said, sitting up and opening the curtains the rest of the way, letting the light that streamed in wake him up the rest of the way. "How many fun detentions have _you _had with Filch? And what time is it?"

"The others have all gone up to lunch," Theo said. "But I wanted to make sure I was the one to tell you this."

Possible terrible endings to what had happened last night started flooding into Daniel's head. "What?" he asked, when Theo hesitated.

"You know how we were talking about the Wolfsbane?" Theo asked.

"Yeah," Daniel said. "I still don't get how Daphne of all people knew about that."

"That's not the point," Theo said, leaning forward intently. "You know how I said imagine if Lupin was a werewolf?"

"Yup," Daniel said, turning around and reaching into his trunk for his clothes. "You got another one? Like, imagine if Sprout was a herbologist? Oh, wait, she —"

"Shut up," Theo said. "Lupin's a werewolf."

Daniel put a disbelieving look on his face and turned back around. "Yeah, right," he said sarcastically. "And _Vector_ teaches _maths_. Oh wait, she _does_."

"Daniel," Theo said, actually coming up and grabbing him by the arm. "Lupin's a werewolf. _Seriously_."

"Fuck off," Daniel said, shaking his arm free. "That's stupid."

"I'm serious," Theo said. "Everyone knows now, and word is he's resigning. Out of the castle by dinnertime."

Daniel didn't know the right question to ask. But apparently confused silence worked just as well, because Theo nodded and moved away, satisfied with his reaction.

Then Daniel thought of a question. "Did Dumbledore and everyone know?" he asked.

"He must have," Theo said. "That's an impossible secret to keep."

"Got a machete handy?" Daniel asked, remembering the thing _charging_ at him, faster than he'd thought any animal could ever run. And Dumbledore had let it live here, all year. Had let it teach them to _defend themselves _against dark creatures.

"A what?"

"Never mind," Daniel said, getting changed quickly. "Happy no-more-exams!"

Theo looked at him a bit oddly then, but nodded. "Same to you," he said. "Only a week until summer, as well."

"Yeah, this week's stupid," Daniel said, searching for his boots. "Exams are over, nobody's going to be doing any work, except for Granger, but we've still got to stick around and make the teachers miserable."

"I quite like it," Theo said, leading Daniel to the door. "It's Hogwarts, but without schoolwork. What's not to like?"

Daniel followed him up to lunch, only to be intercepted by Snape just as he was about to sit down.

"I'd like a word," the man said, his eyes cold. "In my office, now."

Daniel gulped. He was going to die. Snape was going to pull out his organs and add them to the jars around his office. He was going to put his head on a spike over the door as a warning to any other students who sided with his mortal enemies, and —

"Livingstone," Snape said. "_Now_."

"Uh," Daniel said. "I actually have to … "

Snape actually gave him about three seconds to come up with an idea, which was more than Daniel had expected. It surprised him so much he forgot to use the time to think of anything.

"Would you prefer to spend the rest of the afternoon in detention?" Snape said. "That can be quite easily arranged."

Everyone was staring at him, now. "If I'm not back by dinner," Daniel told them, "call the President."

He got up and followed Snape out of the hall, down to the dungeons, and into Snape's office. Maybe he could claim to have been confunded. Or under the Imperius curse. That had worked for Draco's father, after all. He just had to avoid Snape's eyes, not drink or eat anything, and act really really stupid.

"I imagine you can guess what this conversation is about," Snape said, sitting down behind his desk.

"Um," Daniel said, sitting down and staring at his knees. "Maybe?"

"How much money do you have in your dormitory?" Snape asked.

Well. That wasn't the kind of question he'd been expecting at all. "Not sure," Daniel said. "Maybe twenty galleons."

"Hm," Snape said.

_Hm._ Daniel was tempted to look up at Snape's face, but not only was that very dangerous, it would probably also be useless in terms of finding out what Snape was thinking. "I can go and see, if you like," he said hopefully.

Snape kept up the silence.

Daniel _hated _the silence. "Do you need a loan?" he asked, tapping his right heel over and over again on the top of his left foot. "You should really ask Draco, he's got enough money to —"

"I do not _need a loan_," Snape interrupted. "It occurs to me, however, that you might."

Daniel was really, really confused. "Um," he said. "I don't get what this is about."

"Do you expect twenty galleons to last ten weeks?" Snape asked. "At two galleons a week, your proposed cost of living must be exceptionally low."

Daniel opened his mouth to say something, but Snape talked right over him.

"And then there is the matter of your books and other materials for your next year of school," he said. "I am inclined to wonder how you will be able to secure adequate funds."

Daniel shrugged. "I guess I'll just ask my parents," he said. "They tend to look out for me, you know."

"Indeed, they do," Snape said. "They 'look out for you' to such an extent they are willing to lie to both the Muggle authorities and Hogwarts officials to ensure you get your own, absurdly selfish and short-sighted way."

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

The boy's face ran through relief, horror, dismay and resentment before settling on stony. He said nothing.

"I prefer it," Snape said, "when my students do not lie to me."

"I didn't!" Livingstone said quickly. "I just didn't want to go back there."

Snape steeled himself for any number of grievous complaints. "Why not?" he asked.

The boy's eyes hardened, turning a dark, dangerous grey. "I didn't like it there," he said.

"Elaborate," Snape growled.

Livingstone started to look around the room, as though searching for an escape. "They kept telling me what to do all the time," he protested eventually. "Treating me like I was too stupid to count as a person, telling me what to eat, where to go, who to talk to, when to go to bed, what I should be thinking."

That was all? Livingstone had run away from the Muggle world because he was in the care of people who treated him like the child he was?

Snape exhaled sharply. "And that drove you to flee, alone, out of the world you grew up in and spend _two weeks_ without protection in Diagon Alley?"

"I was _fine_," Livingstone snapped. "I can take care of myself, you know. If I couldn't, I wouldn't have even made it here last September. I don't have to stay where I don't want to stay." The defiant expression on his face said more than the words he'd held back afterwards. _And you can't make me._

Snape sympathised with the boy, even as he deplored his oversensitivity and overreaction to what were truly minimal concerns.

"On the contrary," he said. "You are thirteen years old, and by every law in Britain, you are required to obey those legally responsible for your care."

"Oh, as if _laws _are what matter," Livingstone scorned. "Family has nothing to do with the _law_. Anyway, the law in the wizarding world is that we can't tell Muggles about magic being real. If the stupid family services people keep shifting me around from home to home, I'll have to tell _loads _of people."

"Why were you removed from your established residence?" Snape asked.

Livingstone shrugged sullenly.

Snape waited.

"They let me do what I wanted," Livingstone said, rolling his eyes. "Apparently it was _inappropriate_. Like they taught me to drive and stuff."

"They were breaking the law for you," Snape said dryly.

"I was with them for _years_," Livingstone said, genuine pain in his voice. "And I was taken away because my parents let me make decisions for my_self_. So fucking _stupid_."

Snape raised an eyebrow at his language, but Livingstone didn't seem to notice.

"I'm not going to stay with any other family except my own," he was declaring, head raised defiantly. "You're not in charge of me over summer."

"I do not suggest that you should," Snape said.

Livingstone's eyes widened in surprise. "You can get me back to them?" he asked, eyes gleaming.

"No," Snape said, deeply uncomfortable with that look. "I cannot."

Livingstone swallowed, and looked away. He opened his mouth to speak, but closed it again slowly.

"You desire self-sufficiency," Snape said, an idea occurring to him.

"Well, yeah," Livingstone said.

"I shall make arrangements," Snape told him. "Go and eat lunch."

Livingstone stared at him suspiciously. "What are you going to do?" he demanded. "Where am I going to go?"

Snape needed time, alone, to think that over.

"Go to lunch," he repeated. "I will speak with you again when there is something to speak of."

Livingstone got to his feet, eyes confused. "Uh, okay," he said. "But you did say I wouldn't have to go back to another family, right?"

Snape just looked at him. The boy sighed, and turned to leave.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Snape didn't talk to him again for nearly a full week. Daniel occupied himself by worrying about Black and practising his juggling.

He told himself that if the man had been captured it'd be all over the news. Nobody seemed to have realised exactly what had happened last Thursday evening. Everyone knew Black had escaped of course, but there were not nearly enough details to satisfy Daniel's friends, who were speculating like crazy about everything from the return of the Dark Lord to jet-powered turbo boots and laser rifles.

Word about Lupin's being a werewolf had apparently just spontaneously appeared on Friday morning, and spread through the school like wildfire. Daniel's non-Slytherin friends were claiming Snape had spread it around, but from what Theo said, they'd all been talking about it at the Slytherin table before their head of house had come down to breakfast, much later that he usually did.

Buckbeak's death had really turned Potter and the Gryffindors against Draco, which automatically extended to the whole of Slytherin. Daniel felt bad for the hippogriff, but he could hardly blame _Draco_ for the whole wizarding world being so twisted that its courts had decided to kill the hippogriff instead of penalising the human being involved. If judges folded to the whims of a fourteen-year-old boy, then that was a much bigger problem than Draco being a vengeful little shit.

Daniel wondered if the Gryffindors would have been more, or less furious to have Hagrid sacked, and the hippogriff escape punishment completely. From the way they worshipped the old groundskeeper, they'd probably have led a lynch mob against the whole of Slytherin.

With Lupin gone they didn't have any Defence classes, and the only teacher who was making them work every lesson before school was out for good was McGonagall.

Sometimes, Daniel would look across at Potter in class, and remember the way he and Granger had held off all those Dementors, and saved Black's life. He supposed the three of them knew the real story about Black, but they didn't let anything slip, even when half the conversations in class were about either Black or Lupin.

Potions on Wednesday was frightening. Rather than shouting, sneering or taking points off Gryffindor, Snape was quiet. He gave them their homework for the summer holidays, sat behind his desk, and started to work on something as though none of them were even there.

"Ah, Professor?" Draco said after about half an hour of nervous silence.

Snape looked up, face utterly impassive. "Yes, Mr. Malfoy?" he said.

"Is there something you'd like us to be doing, sir?" Draco asked, voice wavering a little.

Snape glanced briefly around the room. "Remain quiet," he instructed. "I recommend you use this time to further your studies."

Draco gulped and nodded. Snape looked back down to whatever he was doing. There was some scrabbling of parchment, and then the class settled into a quiet disturbed only by quill on parchment, and the steady turning of pages.

Daniel took out his Potions textbook and flicked through it, just for something to do. About halfway through the class someone giggled from the Gryffindor side, and Snape's head snapped up so hard he must have gotten whiplash.

The laughter cut off abruptly, and the rest of the lesson was held in the same tense silence. Snape dismissed them as soon as it hit four o'clock, and the classroom had never been emptied quite so quickly.

As soon as the door closed behind them, the whole class exhaled as one.

"What was up with _him_?" Seamus asked.

"I thought he'd be happy that Lupin's gone," Daphne said.

Daniel held his tongue, and hoped desperately that Snape's mood would improve before they had the talk he'd promised.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Their exam results came the next morning. Daniel had done fine in Defence, Charms, Muggle Studies and Potions. His best subject was easily Transfiguration; not even Draco had done better. He'd scraped a pass in History of Magic and Herbology, but had failed both Astronomy and Ancient Runes.

Better than he'd expected, really.

Crabbe had failed Runes too. Goyle, to everyone's surprise, hadn't. In fact, between the two of them they had only five fail marks, which was the best they'd done so far.

After lunch that day, Snape summoned Daniel into his office.

"I have made arrangements for your accommodations over summer," the man announced as soon as Daniel was sitting down.

"So I don't even get a say?" Daniel asked, trying to keep a lid on his anger. After all the effort he'd put into staying free, he wasn't going to let even _Snape _force him to go somewhere he didn't want.

"I don't think you will be objecting," Snape said dryly.

"Oh, yeah?" Daniel said, then regretted it.

"If you'd prefer not to listen, I do have the power to enforce a stay with your new guardians," Snape said contemptuously. "I hadn't realised your —"

"I'm listening," Daniel interrupted.

Something gleamed in Snape's eyes.

"The first four weeks of your summer will be spent in the north of Scotland, at what I believe is classified an 'adventure camp'," he said, the words coming out his mouth in a sneer. "You will then stay in London for three days, followed by a month in another such facility. The remainder of your time will be spent in Diagon Alley, completing your schoolwork and preparing yourself for the next school year."

Daniel realised he was beaming, and cut it out. There could still be a catch. "An adventure camp?" he asked, unable to believe his luck. "You mean with like mountain climbing and white-water rafting and everything?"

Snape's mouth tightened. Daniel thought it might have been in amusement, but was just as likely to have been disdain. "It would be to your benefit to acquire some Muggle survival skills," he said sensibly. "As that is the world I believe you naturally gravitate to."

"Huh?" Daniel said, trying not to jiggle in his seat with excitement. "What's gravitate?"

Snape frowned. "You should be able to infer the meaning from context," he said unsympathetically. "You will catch the Hogwarts Express with your classmates, and take the Inverness train at six eighteen. I will meet you at that station the next morning."

Daniel didn't dare ask any questions. He didn't want to speak, in case he somehow made Snape change his mind.

A satisfied look found its way onto Snape's face at Daniel's silence. "You do not object to having your life arranged for you in this case, then?" he asked snidely.

"Not really," Daniel said. "Just so long as you're not expecting me to pay."

Snape gave him a distant sort of a look. "I am not," he said.

"Cool," Daniel said. "Can I go get ready for the feast and pack and everything now?"

"Indeed," Snape said.

Daniel got to the door, and paused. He took a deep breath, and turned back. "Thanks," he said, forcing himself to meet Snape's black gaze. "Thanks for helping me."

Snape looked uncomfortable, so Daniel didn't wait for a reply. He just got the hell out of there, waiting until he was right back outside the Slytherin common room before letting himself whoop.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

Gryffindor won the house cup, _again_. Daniel supposed they'd probably deserved it this year, what with their Quidditch win and all, but that wasn't a very popular opinion down on the Slytherin table, so he kept his mouth shut.

He'd sent off a letter to his parents after his talk with Snape, so they'd know he was fine over summer, and having fun, and still wanted to get back to them, but couldn't. He left out all the huge news stuff, but managed to get some stuff off his chest anyway. He didn't really like writing enough to write heartfelt letters often, but he felt he needed to make the effort this time.

He told them about Draco, and the bizarre ideas wizards had about marriage and love. He told them about Muggle Studies, and how completely clueless most of his schoolmates were about what was in the real world.

He gave them the latest on all his friends, stressing that he was _happy _that Lisa was with someone else, because people were finally shutting up about them getting together all the time. He told them about the Batmobile Theo had given to him, and all the modifications he'd given it and his Transformers. He was learning to juggle, he wrote, and over the summer he'd be learning way more useful stuff, he was sure.

By the time the desserts were nearly all finished, most people around Daniel were slowing down from being so full.

Millicent was the first to get to her feet and propose a toast.

"To the end of third year," she said, raising her goblet of juice.

Daphne stood up right beside her. "To fourth year," she said.

They all drank to _that_.

"To a new Defence teacher," Theo said, not bothering to get out of his seat.

"To the Quidditch World Cup," Draco said, "Who's coming?"

Everyone except Daniel drank to that one.

~o~o~o~o~o~o~o~

In the morning they left their packed bags down in the dormitories and headed up to breakfast. The hall was filled with that last-day combination of regret and excitement, everyone nattering away about their holiday plans, and promising to write.

Daniel felt generous towards _everybody_. He wished everyone who so much as looked at him a happy holiday, and gorged himself silly on everything fried he could lay his hands on.

He tried not to be too joyful around Theo, who clearly didn't want to go home at all, even if he was looking forward to the World Cup more than Daniel thought healthy. But he couldn't really help it, because assuming Snape didn't have some dastardly plan for the summer, it was going to be _great_. He'd be learning all kinds of useful things, and with a bunch of other kids without pureblood hangups or magic _anything_.

He was going to spend his summer in the _real_ world.

**Well. That's the end of this here year at Hoggy Warty Hogwarts. I hope you've enjoyed my changeable and impulsive storytelling. I have, and I'm proud to announce that this is the first story I have **_**ever **_**finished of anything approaching this kind of length. Since I started this whole thing started as an exercise in finishing a story, it's been a success from my point of view. Unfortunately, it's eaten my brain, and I've edited it into hopefully something slightly more cohesive, and am now thinking about other years, other scenes, other stories of Daniel's I can tell.**

**I've tried not to beg too hard for reviews, since I'm terrible at remembering to give them myself. That said, it would be incredibly helpful for me and for the future of this story if those of you who've read and enjoyed could let me know your thoughts and feelings on the end product, even if it's just to complain that I haven't told you if Daniel will be able to do Animagus yet, or that OMG I let Buckbeak die.**

**Also, my probable course of action from here will be to write various one-shots, and try to decide if I should skip to writing a sixth-year novel, as I had originally planned, or really set my sights high and think of a story for Daniel's fourth year, and write the whole thing out. Or even, I guess, write book one, or two. If nobody has requests or ideas, I'll probably publish one-shots from first and second year, and start to structure a story around the sixth. I'm a horribly indecisive person though, so any suggestions will probably be taken more seriously than they should be.**

**Blah, blah, blah. I'm going on and on again, when **_the most important thing is to thank you all for reading, the few of you who have reviewed especially_**, and get to work on my next task.**

**Which should really be uni work, but hey. Nobody's perfect.**


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